


Bending the Rules

by naughtyniffler



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, it takes like 2 months for them to kiss, newtina, newtina angst, newtina au, newtina fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtyniffler/pseuds/naughtyniffler
Summary: Celebrity!Newt and policewoman!Tina AU. Rule number one of fame: celebrities don't date the general public.Unfortunately, Newt Scamander, sought after, long-time A-list actor, doesn't follow rules very well. With throngs of young women mobbing him on the daily, the only person he actually wants is Tina Goldstein, the slightly aloof policewoman who seems to continually come to his rescue. On top of that, Newt isn't altogether certain he wants to be famous, which is a bit of a situation given that he can't turn back now. (Or can he?)Angst and fluff abound. And maybe, just maybe (definitely), a happy ending.





	1. Big black cars and Riviera views

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not a really a fanfiction writer, but I thought I would throw this out there and see what happens and if it’s any good. Characterization won’t be tailored to everyone’s liking, but if you don’t like it don't read it. This fic is based on the characters from canon, not supposed to be exactly to the letter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's ill-advised beyond belief. Actors don't interact with the general public beyond conventions and other such events.
> 
> Still, there's something about the police officer who shows up to help subdue a mob of screaming, groping fans that catches Newt Scamander’s attention.
> 
> “Thank you,” he manages to say before she gets back into the cruiser. He isn't even sure she notices him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, you know... suspend your disbelief. I know next to nothing about the celebrity world, or policing. A lot of this probably isn’t realistic. 
> 
> I used to watch Chasing Cameron and Cam got in major trouble because he let a fan get onto the tour bus with him, just to have someone to talk to, and that was deemed a very very bad idea (unlike Newt, he rose to fame in late teenhood). So it kind of made me think of this. And credit should go to the famed Johnlock fic Performance in a Leading Role for being one of the quintessential acting AUs.
> 
> P.S. At this point I really just grasped at straws for names from the canon when naming different characters. Don’t kill me. I wasn’t about to use Mary Lou or Chastity as Newt’s agent, after all.
> 
> Creds to Taylor Swift for lyrics from "The Lucky One."

_Now it’s big black cars, and Riviera views,_  
_And your lover in the foyer doesn't even know you_  
_And your secrets end up splashed on the news front page_

**~*~**

It's ill-advised beyond belief. Actors don't interact with the general public beyond conventions and other such events.

Still, there's something about the police officer who shows up to help subdue a mob of screaming, groping fans that catches Newt Scamander’s attention.

“Thank you,” he manages to say before she gets back into the cruiser. He isn't even sure she notices him.

* * *

“No. Absolutely not,” he says in horror when his publicist, Seraphina Picquery, informs him a few days later that he’ll be taking Leta Lestrange as a _date_ to the benefit banquet next month.

“It will be good publicity,” Seraphina insists. “Just a photo or two...”

“No.” Newt hates to act like a spoiled A-list actor, but honestly. Yes, he and Leta may have shared the same acting coach and attended the same workshops before either was famous, and they may have gone on two and a half ‘dates’ when they were both twenty-six. That does _not_ mean that they're friends, or that he wants to be remotely associated with her.

“Fine,” Seraphina says, and it's painfully obvious that she's bemoaning his lack of a love life, “what alternative do you propose?”

“I could go alone,” he suggests the novel idea.

“You need a date, Newton.”

He thinks of the police officer from the other day. “Do you know who the cops were, the ones that broke up the fans the other day?”

Seraphina gapes. “You cannot _possibly_ consider bringing a police officer as your date.”

Newt shrugs. The more he considers it, the more it seems a tremendous idea. Anyway, if his publicist isn't going to help with his objectively terrible plan, he’ll find someone who will. Namely, his trusted manager.

Leaving a distressed Seraphina behind, Newt walks off and calls Queenie Kowalski.

* * *

“Honey, no,” is Queenie’s instant response.

“So that's a yes, then,” Newt corrects her hopefully.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

 _That_ doesn't bode well. Resigning himself to his fate, Newt flops down on the bed and waits.

* * *

Queenie is in rare form.

“Jacob is a baker,” Newt points out once she’s sufficiently reminded him why this is a terrible idea.

“But I'm not an A-list celebrity!” Queenie sighs, standing akimbo and looking down at him. “Newt, you can't. I’ll find you another date, but you can't show up to a benefit banquet dressed to the nines with a police officer on your arm.”

“What if I like her? Am I not even allowed to talk to her?”

“It's not that simple!”

Newt hates being famous.

“By the way, you've gotta do something about your new agent,” Queenie adds, gathering her things. It would seem that this conversation, or at least this _iteration_ of this conversation, is over. “She's been here two months and seems to think she's also your manager and publicist and possibly the president of the United States.”

“I rather liked her,” Newt argues.

“Please,” Queenie begs, then beams and kisses him on the cheek. “Bye, honey.”

Newt sighs; he supposes it’s on him to take his new agent down a notch and so, still preoccupied with thoughts of the mystery cop, he calls Percival Graves. It’s a dreadful name for a woman—given that it's for a man—but her parents were overly determined to honor both of their fathers, who were coincidentally named Percival, and she’s gone by Val ever since. Besides, Val says, she gets to take full advantage of sexism in the workplace when employers look at her resumé with the impression that she’s a male.

“Bad idea, pal,” Val tells him instantly, after insisting that he come meet her in person. He’s mildly frightened she intends to physically injure him. She’s smart as a whip and good at her job, but her intensity is just shy of intimidating. “Besides, what makes you think she’d like _you?”_

Well, she certainly doesn't mince words. Newt cringes. “I only...”

Val takes a gulp of coffee. Newt isn't so sure she should be having caffeine in the first place. “I know your kind,” she says, gesturing to him. “You're Mr. Suave for the movies and the cameras, but have you actually ever dated like a normal guy?”

“I...”

“Exactly.” She drops a stack of magazines on the desk with a thump. “Take a look at these.”

“Why?”

She eyes him over the top of her mug, which says “I Survived Another Meeting That Should Have Been An Email.” According to Newt’s sources, Val has a line-up of similarly themed coffee mugs which she rotates on a daily basis much the way some more style-inclined stars rotate ties or Italian shoes. “Maybe because it’d be nice for you, being the cover, to look at the damn magazine? Hurry up, though—they said they need any edits by the end of the day.”

“I don’t usually make edits,” Newt says in confusion.

Val claps him on the back. “Now you do. You’re welcome.”

“You do know you’re just my agent, right?” Newt calls as she grabs a pile of manila folders, thrusts them under her armpit, and strides off. Val waves dismissively with the hand still holding her cup—coffee flies everywhere, including a nearby intern's white blouse—rounds the corner, and disappears.

* * *

As luck would have it, Newt runs into the police officer at Starbucks two days later. She's standing in line looking tired and in desperate need of a pick me up when he enters. Newt cautiously removes his aviators and steps closer; nobody in the relatively vacant café seems to recognize him, so he decides it's safe to talk.

“Hello,” he says, smiling at her.

“What? Oh—hi,” she responds cautiously. Recognition doesn't dawn, or at least the sort of recognition that usually dawns, particularly amongst people of her demographic. Not that Newt assumes every woman is going to fall to her knees upon meeting him, but all modesty aside, he’s well aware that he’s one of the better known actors in the world.

“Newt Scamander,” Newt introduces himself.

“Tina Goldstein.” She gives a small smile, appears not to see his proffered hand, and turns back to squint at the menu.

Newt _should_ give up, but he doesn't. When Tina goes to order, Newt cuts her off and slides his credit card to the barista. “It's on me,” he says.

Unlike Tina, the barista immediately identifies him and gets flustered. “You—y-you're—”

“Hello,” Newt says pleasantly.

“It's really fine,” Tina insists. The barista isn't even paying attention to anything, in favor of gaping at the celebrity—one of _those_ fans, then—so Newt leans over and swipes his card.

“There we go,” he says, smiling again at Tina. This time she seems marginally less suspicious, which is encouraging.

“Sorry, I'm exhausted,” she admits. “I worked the graveyard shift three nights in a row.”

“It is very admirable, what you do,” Newt replies, and feels instantly stupid.

The thing is, for all his fame and adoring fans, Newt is just as awkward when he likes someone—not that he _likes_ Tina, exactly—as any other guy. Possibly more. He essentially went straight from a freckly, unpopular, buck-toothed 12-year-old relying on puberty to be kind to him, to an award-winning coveted actor with far too many people fussing over ridiculous things like his diet and his shoelaces and his face—he was positively _horrified_ the first time he had to wear _makeup—_ and thus legitimate dating opportunities have been pretty thin on the ground. Half the time he can't tell if people are reacting positively to him because he's actually socially ept, or because he's famous. He's beginning to suspect the latter.

Due to a combination of his onscreen roles and diligent practice with Seraphina, Newt’s learned how to come across as the sort of down-to-earth, boy-next-door womanizer everyone swears is the magic bullet. Perhaps it is in the movie business, but on the streets it has proven to be distinctly lacking. Unfortunately, Tina is very pretty, and Newt doesn't know what to do with his limbs. He hopes she can't tell.

Tina looks... not _exactly_ put off. “Thanks. And thanks for the...” She gestures to the coffee. Then, “Did you want anything?”

“No,” Newt lies, having forgotten that he walked in here for a reason.

Tina clearly doesn't buy it, and as she turns her head he's pretty sure he sees the tail end of a smirk. “Okay,” she says. “I’d offer to get you something, but I might make the barista over there jealous.”

“Ah.” Newt would honestly prefer Tina not knowing who he is (as dubious as it seems), but at least he can prevent her from recognizing the scope of his fame. “There are only a few of them. Mostly it’s, erm... a quiet life for me.”

“Really?” Tina raises an eyebrow. “Needing law enforcement intervention because you're being attacked by screaming fans doesn't seem very quiet, but maybe that's just me.”

So she _does_ remember. Newt is about to respond when Tina nods towards the glass door. A mob of fans have gathered outside the Starbucks, barricaded by Newt’s security guard.

“Quiet, huh,” she says in amusement. She takes a sip of coffee, then moves to leave. “Good to meet you, Mr. Scamander.”

“Wait,” Newt says suddenly, and curses himself. This is a recipe for disaster if he's ever seen one. “Miss Goldstein.” Assuming she’s a Miss. Tina waits expectantly. “You wouldn't want to start your shift a bit early, would you?”

She takes one look at the chaos developing outside the coffee shop and understands. “Come on,” she says, shepherding him out the back door. “Cruiser’s just down here,” she adds. Newt hurries after her as they set down an alley, hiding behind bins to avoid being spotted. He feels about nine years old again, carefree and playing a game of cops and robbers. They reach the patrol car a few minutes later; Newt jumps into the passenger seat.

“No tinted windows,” he comments.

Tina glances over at him. “Yeah, we don't get a whole lotta celebrities in our cars. They go in the posh patrol cars, you know, the ones outfitted with foot spas and masseuses and free bottomless mimosas.”

“Really?” Newt asks, frowning.

Tina scoffs, but in a warm sort of way. “No. Are you kidding me?”

Newt starts to grin despite himself. He realizes that this is one of the first times in years that a non-celebrity has treated him like any other normal human being—that they haven't cared about his fame whatsoever. It's nice.

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?” Tina asks now.

“Wherever you would like to go,” he answers.

“What a gentleman,” she says dryly, then smiles. “Ever been in a police car with the siren on?”

Newt shakes his head. Two minutes later, they're speeding down the streets, sirens wailing. Cameras click and fans call out, but Newt is moving too fast and having too much fun to care.

* * *

Queenie and Seraphina corner Newt after Perez Hilton has a field day on his little excursion with the mystery cop.

“This ends now,” Seraphina asserts.

“I didn't even get her number,” Newt protests.

“Good!” Seraphina responds harshly. “Newton, you _need_ to understand the gravity of the situation. As your publicist—”

Newt starts to snap. “Am I not allowed to have some _semblance_ of a normal life?” he retorts.

“It isn’t even a matter of your image! It is about compatibility, and I regret to inform you that men with nine-figure net worths are not going to be compatible with a blue-collar worker from Manhattan!”

“I’d hate for you to get hurt, honey,” Queenie puts in quietly.

“She has no ties to the celebrity world, Newt,” Seraphina says. “Dating you would mean exposure to a lifestyle she has never come close to experiencing.”

“You did research on her,” Newt accuses Seraphina.

“We both did,” Queenie admits, and Newt bristles even more. “It’s our _job.”_

“It’s your job to cull every single woman I might want to date? To control my public image so much so that I am forced to socialize only with people who—”

“I don’t know what you want us to do, Newt!” Queenie cries. She looks genuinely distressed. “We care about you. We do. It’s just not a good idea, and someone’s gonna get hurt.”

“I did not ask for any of this!” Newt yells suddenly. “I wanted to act, yes, but I did not want to end up backed into a corner wherein I cannot have the life I would have been allowed to have, had I never become famous.”

“It is the cost of fame,” Seraphina says gravely.

It’s so _frustrating._ It isn’t that Newt intends to marry Tina. It isn’t that he’s in love with her. It’s just that she’s the first woman who’s ever remotely appealed to him in more than a decade of interviews and red carpets and makeup trailers. He likes the actresses he’s met, of course, and they have liked him, but he never felt the desire to know them better. As a celebrity, all of the first date questions have been answered a million times, printed in publications across the country, featured in countless documentaries and talk shows, and many famous women are reasonably guarded.

So while Newt has had his fair share of flings and brief affairs, nothing ever required him to actively “pursue” a woman, or to want to take her out to dinner and just _talk_ like normal people. What he’s done with A-list actresses hasn’t been dating.

Newt wants to act. He _needs_ to act. Acting runs in his blood. The problem is, frankly, he’s too damn good at it. He did go through some semblance of high school while managing a hectic filming schedule, but the second half of it had to be done through sporadic tutoring sessions, and when he returned to his old high school nothing was the same. Moving from Britain during his adolescent years hadn't helped him much in the way of making friends to start with; the second his name went up in lights all of his peers instantly wrote him off.

Once Newt hit eighteen, there was a brief reprieve during which he was given the option of attending college or launching his acting career in earnest. Truthfully, he was interested in zoology and has been from a young age. But family and friends talked him out of it, pointed out that ultimately acting would be the most profitable, and he had no idea what a future in zoology would look like. By the time he accepted the lead role in _Hidden Waters_  and skyrocketed to the top of the charts, it was too late to turn back.

This business with Tina is a big deal when it shouldn’t be. Newt should be able to run into someone he likes and have a go, see if there’s anything there. To go on a date without paparazzi and bodyguards. To do all the things he should have been doing in his teens, but never got a chance to.

“Very well,” he says now to the concerned women before him.

“Good.” They heave twin sighs of relief.

“I’m sorry,” Queenie murmurs as Seraphina gathers up their things. “I’m real sorry, I am, but...”

“I understand,” Newt reassures her.

She musters a tight-lipped smile laced with sympathy, then follows Newt’s publicist out the door with an air of finality. The moment it swings shut, however, Newt calls Val and gets a car to meet her at the office.

“I gotta agree with them,” Val says ruefully. Newt is leaning up against her desk, arms crossed. “Excuse you,” she adds, reaching around him for her coffee mug. _The difference between coffee and your opinion is that I asked for coffee._ Newt appreciates that very much, being the target of unsolicited opinions every day. “There’s never a good time to get obsessed with a police officer.”

“I am not obsessed,” Newt clarifies. “It... would not be so important if I was not famous.”

“Your entire life would be different if you weren’t famous, Captain Obvious. But unfortunately, it’s not.”

“She didn’t treat me like I was famous, is the thing.”

“Oh? What a travesty.”

He didn’t mean it like _that._ “No, I—I appreciated it, very much.”

Val sighs and folds her hands on her desk. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“I suppose I thought you might be slightly more inclined to help.”

Val spins around in her chair and leans back, looking up at her client in mingled exasperation and that same irritating sympathy that Queenie had expressed earlier. “Look, I’m here to make sure everything goes smoothly. I’m only _supposed_ to be your agent, but if I’m being honest—and very few people like me being honest, but it’s my job, so you don’t have a choice—Seraphina and Queenie may be pretty and young and nice, but I _don’t_ think they’re doing what’s best for you.”

“Exactly,” Newt says, “and what is best for me is to at least _talk_ to Tina again.”

“I get it.” For some reason, Newt honestly believes she does. “But you gotta understand where we’re all coming from. The media backlash, not to mention the emotional backlash... and we both know you've never really dated.”

“Not particularly,” Newt admits. “Which is precisely the problem.”

Val cocks an eyebrow. “I hate to break it to you, but you got 99 problems and never having dated ain’t one of them. No, the point is, I’m also your emotional guardian, whether either of us likes it or not, and... it’s just not a good idea. From what I gather, Tina’s not the type to be super gung-ho about dating someone like you, even if she likes you.

“You’ve got two very different lives. If your relationship goes public—which it inevitably will—she’ll be pulled into the spotlight, and her career will suffer. Assuming she has the same passion for law enforcement as you do for acting, that won’t be an overly welcome change. If you like her this much... you won’t want to do that to her.”

Val is right. Dammit. The last thing Newt wants to do is to drag Tina away from her profession. He knows all too well what being in the public eye is like, and he’s clearly no fan of the lifestyle, so far be it from him to put an innocent party through that as well.

“Perhaps we could be friends,” he suggests cautiously.

Val scoffs. “Yeah, the number of times I’ve heard that in the biz... celebrities aren’t ‘just friends’ with people they want to date.”

“I could be,” Newt insists.

“Drop it, Newt,” Val replies firmly, and turns back to face her computer.

* * *

Newt does not want to come off as a stalker. He really doesn't. But at this point, if only to spite his fame in general, all bets are off. Worst case scenario he gets a restraining order. And so the very next day he shows up at the police station in sunglasses and a hoodie, hoping against hope that nobody will recognize him.

“Is Tina Goldstein here?” he asks the first person he sees.

They either don't notice or don't care who he is. “Yeah, she just finished her shift. I’ll get her.”

A minute later, Tina walks in looking confused and concerned. When she sees Newt, though, she relaxes marginally. “What are you doing here?”

“I would like to take you out to lunch, if I may,” Newt answers. _TERRIBLE IDEA!_ his manager, agent, and publicist all scream in his head.

Tina appears surprised. “I, uh, don’t have a change of clothes.”

So... not a no. “It’s alright,” Newt reassures her. “You look very nice.”

“Thanks?” Tina says, although he thinks she blushes slightly. “Um... sure, let me get my stuff and we can go.” She falters. “You sure you wanna be seen in public, you know, with me?”

Newt hesitates too. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be seen with Tina in and of itself, but he knows that the media will go crazy if they witness this. “I can call ahead of time and ask to be let in the back door,” he decides. It’s an unfortunate necessity. That being said, the city is relatively accustomed to celebrities roaming the streets anyway, particularly establishments, many of which have private rooms for this purpose.

“Okay,” Tina agrees. “Are we walking?”

“Ah,” Newt says; for some reason he had forgotten to account for this tiny detail. “I don’t suppose you have a car?”

“No, and I think lunch with celebrities isn’t reason enough to steal one of the cruisers.”

“We will have to keep a low profile, then,” he advises her.

“Don’t you think your disguise might be a little overdone?” Tina asks, gesturing to his hoodie and glasses. “You look like you’re about to rob a bank.”

“No,” Newt says immediately. “Such things can never be overdone.”

“Right,” the police officer says dubiously, and pops into the back room to get her wallet and phone. Newt wonders briefly if he could get her number, but that’s definitely overstepping the ‘just friends’ line which he swore to Val he would not cross.

As they walk down the streets carefully, Newt is pretty sure that if anything, people think he’s a suspect being shepherded around by a cop. In fact, he mutters this to Tina, both of them realizing that this is an excellent cover. (Not that cops routinely take criminals on walking tours of the city, but it’ll pass as a last resort.) Accordingly, when someone stops and appears to recognize Newt, Tina grabs him by the elbow and roughly shoves him forward.

“Move,” she orders gruffly. It’s a convincing charade—the fan looks crestfallen—and the rest of the walk proceeds without incident.

* * *

Once they’re settled and safely inside the private room, Newt takes off his glasses and hoodie. Tina snorts when she sees that he’s impeccably dressed beneath it.

“What, do you have a photoshoot?” she asks in amusement.

“I am just very stylish,” Newt insists, adjusting his bowtie.

Tina smiles. “Of course.”

They go on to discuss a number of topics; Tina knows virtually nothing about Newt—she isn’t much of a media consumer, or so she claims—and he, of course, knows nothing about her. It’s incredibly refreshing. Granted, Tina asks questions that have been posed a million times in interviews, but Newt sincerely doesn’t mind answering them. They aren’t contrived, they’re not going up online, and Tina genuinely wants to know the answers.

“Do you ever wish you’d taken a different path?” Tina asks keenly over dessert.

“Frequently,” and _there’s_ an understatement.

“What would you have done instead?”

“Well...”

Only Newt’s closest friends know about his interest in zoology. It isn’t as though it’s a taboo subject, or that it would damage his reputation, but there are some things he would rather not have broadcasted everywhere. If it got out, he would no doubt start receiving an influx of partnership offerings and interview requests and so on and so forth.

But Tina has no ulterior motives, and he highly doubts she’s going to go “leak” the contents of this conversation to _People_ magazine, so Newt launches into an explanation. “I am glad to be where I am, but sometimes I... I do wonder what my life might have looked like, had I pursued a zoology degree,” he finishes. It occurs to him that he just spent nearly ten minutes expounding upon his passion.

Tina is nodding; she seems to have been interested the entire time, unlike most people. “That’s impressive,” she remarks. “I could see you doing research and working at a zoo.”

“Really?” It means more than it should.

“Yeah. You could still do it, you know.”

“It is... complicated.” They both fall silent, lost in thought. Then Newt looks up and asks, “What about yourself?”

Tina shrugs. “I guess I feel like anything other than law enforcement would be less... meaningful to me. I may not have the highest salary, but I know I’m making more of a difference in this world than I would’ve made otherwise.”

It's an honest and true statement. Even so, Newt can’t help feeling rather guilty about his implied lack of making a difference. “I suppose you partly answered my question, but have you ever reconsidered your career path?” he queries.

“I was actually a pretty good student,” Tina responds, looking uncomfortable to admit it. “I won a lot of awards, I skipped a couple grades, the whole nine. But then my parents died, and I was kind of on my own, you know... I was a legal adult then, and we didn’t have extended family. So I decided to get a criminal justice degree. I got through a four-year in two years, which was nice, and by the time I was twenty I was on the force.

“I have a friend, actually,” she remembers suddenly. “She’s in zoology and runs a lab out in Boston. I could introduce you if you want. It's only a four-hour drive from here, and I have Saturday off.”

“There would be a lot of moving parts,” Newt points out ruefully. Every time he does anything, he has to run it by his team, arrange transportation and security, and determine an entire itinerary. An impromptu trip to Boston would surely upset the entire balance, and he can only imagine the hassle it would be to rearrange his schedule.

“Right,” Tina says, then confesses, “I think I forgot you were famous for a second there.”

“That,” Newt responds fervently, “is the best thing anyone has ever said to me.” He pauses. “You have something on your—” He gestures to the chocolate on the corner of her lip.

Before Tina can wipe it off, her phone rings loudly. There’s been a massive vehicle collision and she’s being begged to come join the other units, which means that she’ll have to make a mad dash for the station and then somehow squeeze through the congested streets of Manhattan. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, scrambling to her feet. “I have to do this—”

Newt jumps up. “Can I come?” he asks urgently.

Her brow furrows. “Newt, I... I don’t think so.”

“If you would let me, I will not say a word. I just...” Want to see what it’s like to live a normal, non-famous life.

Tina looks torn, then gives up. “Fine,” she acquiesces. Newt grabs her hand, and together they sprint out the back door.

* * *

The collision is bad, involving four cars and blocking traffic in a major way. One driver is being transported to the hospital via Life Flight, two others are in critical condition, and as Tina leaps out of the car she sees firefighters and police struggling to wrench a crying woman from the most crumpled vehicle. They didn’t bring jaws of life, and the angle is such that it would have been equally difficult to extract the victim either way.

Without missing a beat, she races over to join the efforts. Newt, sitting frozen in the passenger seat, makes a split second, possibly poor decision and follows.

Nobody looks up; nobody recognizes him. Everyone’s muscles are straining hard, and in this moment he is just another person. A couple civilians have hopped out and are trying to help too, and with the combined efforts of the group, they are able to free the victim. The EMTs get her onto a backboard, fix her up with a cervical collar, and whisk her into the ambulance in two minutes flat. The back doors slam, the sirens wail: all that's left are three giant hunks of metal and honking traffic on either sides.

“What do we do now?” Newt asks Tina, panting from the exertion.

“They’re gonna move the debris and we’ve gotta collect statements from witnesses. And someone needs to get on traffic duty, because this is a huge problem,” Tina explains. Then she grimaces and tells Newt, “You should get back in the cruiser. All these parked cars, people can jump out if they want to. Last thing we need is another safety hazard.”

Newt knows when he’s beat. Public safety comes first, and so he makes his way back to the patrol car and shuts the door. Once inside, he glances down at his phone and realizes that he has 23 missed calls from Val, 18 missed calls from Queenie, and a whopping 30 from Seraphina. Good lord. He hasn’t checked his phone since he left for the station this afternoon.

“Where the _hell_ are you?” Val demands when he calls her first.

“I’m at a car accident—”

“You’re in a _car accident?!”_ she screeches. “Newt, what the—”

“No, I’m on the scene,” he hurriedly clarifies. “I...”

“Oh, god. So help me—you tracked down Tina, didn’t you.”

“...yes.”

“You’re in a patrol car, at the scene of an accident—which, incidentally, has been holding up the entire office coming back from their lunch break. Are you kidding me?”

“It was only lunch,” he defends himself. “She was off duty.”

“Why on earth would you follow her there?”

“I wanted to,” is all he can come up with, and he cringes because he _knows_ how spoiled that makes him sound.

“Yeah, this is a situation for Queenie and Seraphina to deal with,” Val says. “Call them.” With that, she hangs up. Sighing, and peering anxiously over the dashboard—Tina has joined a few other cops in waving cars through one by one—Newt calls his manager.

“Newt?” Queenie says before the phone can even ring once.

“Hello,” he greets her warily.

“You better have a _real_ good reason to have missed your interview this afternoon.”

Shit. He forgot about that. A good reason... “I had a date,” he informs her.

He can practically hear Queenie’s jaw drop. “Are you kidding me? With Tina?”

“With somebody.”

“Oh, honey. Don’t do this,” she pleads.

“Do what?” He swears he’s more mature than this, he really is. But this is ridiculous.

“How soon can you get back here?”

“It depends on when Tina can leave.”

“I can send a car.”

Newt assesses the scene. Nobody’s getting anywhere anytime soon. By the time a car could make it, Tina will probably already be back at the station. He tells Queenie, who can’t refute the facts.

“I’ll tell them you got sick. Which means,” she adds menacingly, _“no pictures.”_

“No pictures,” Newt pledges.

“Hide in the back seat if you have to, but this is way too much to handle right now. Seraphina’s having issues with Leta’s team.”

“Excellent,” Newt says cheerfully.

“Not excellent, we need someone else to go with you.”

“Well, I haven’t the faintest.”

“We’ll have a think tank later with Val. You didn’t happen to talk to her, did you?”

“Ah. Yes.”

“...please tell me she did not approve of you finding Tina.”

“Just a _smidge._ It wasn’t approval, exactly. It was, erm... tacit agreement.”

“Tacit—Newt!”

“Must go,” he says quickly, and hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought we would jump right in with the drama, I suppose? Just wanted to set up the conflict of the story, which is Newt trying to cope with being famous when he never wanted to be, not least because he likes Tina. But also fame isn't All That, especially for someone who prefers a quiet life.
> 
> No, Newt is not a cinnamon roll, or at least he actively doesn't want to be one. He can't help it if he basically grew up famous. And in this AU at least, it's true that he didn't develop the same dating social skills as everyone else, or at least not in a way that enables him to interact super duper smoothly with non famous people. But he wants to change.


	2. I'm dreaming about seeing the world with someone like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before he can leave, the passenger seat window rolls down. “Hey, Newt?” Tina asks softly. He stops, leans down and sticks his head inside the car. “Was this a date?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad to see some people enjoyed the first chapter!
> 
> I deleted the original chapter 2, but now I’ve committed and won’t delete this one, I swear. I do think I’m perpetually displeased with my work, so I’ll have to trust my little audience’s judgment.

_It's amazing the changes I've been feeling,  
_ _I'm dreaming about seeing the world with someone like you.  
_ _I've been tumbling, shaking and my whole world's breaking,  
_ _I wanna put it together_

**~*~**

It takes hours, but finally Tina is back, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, I thought someone could pick you up or something,” she says as she hurriedly jumps into the car and turns the ignition.

Newt explains his transportation predicament. “I didn’t mind waiting, anyhow,” he reassures her.

“You’re sweet,” Tina replies, still slightly out of breath. She must be exhausted, Newt realizes, and feels an odd sense of protectiveness over her. He hopes she doesn’t have to work another graveyard shift anytime soon.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he inquires.

Tina’s mouth quirks. “Why, are you planning to take me out again so we can run after a criminal this time? I bet your publicist would _love_ a shot of you tackling a drug dealer.”

“No,” Newt answers, imagining the expression on Seraphina’s face if such a picture popped up online. “Although I would not be _averse_ to taking you out again. Perhaps with slightly less excitement.”

Tina doesn’t say anything, but falls silent with a pensive look on her face. Then she buckles herself in and changes the subject. “Where d’you want me to drop you off?”

Spoiled as he is, Newt has both an apartment and luxury hotel suite to choose from. He prefers spending time at the hotel, because Queenie and Seraphina also stay there during their Manhattan excursions, and he certainly owes them an apology. And, to be honest, staying at an apartment brings him a bit too close to being attached to one specific place. He doesn't want _that._ At least not yet. “The hotel is closest.”

Tina nods and pulls out, lights flashing.

“Are you supposed to do that?” Newt questions her suspiciously.

“Hey, I’ve got precious cargo, right?” Tina responds, glancing over to grin at him. Then, “Not technically. But I’d say we’ve been bending a lot of rules today.”

 _Including the golden rule of celebrity dating._ “Mm,” Newt says in assent, watching the city go by and lanes of traffic part for the patrol car.

“So what’s in store for the evening?” Tina inquires. “A quiet dinner?”

“Something along the lines. I daresay my team is going to chew me out rather spectacularly once I walk through the door.”

“Huh. Must be weird, having an entire team of people like that, wherever you go.”

“Weird” is an understatement. “It is something one never quite gets used to,” Newt admits, “but one of many prices of fame.”

“Thanks, by the way, for the help,” Tina adds. “They asked me afterwards if it was really you. I thought I’d do you a favor and told them it was my boyfriend visiting from California.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Newt says more sharply than intended.

Tina scoffs. “No. I don’t exactly have time to date, anyway, being a police officer.” Newt relaxes slightly. “I’m sure you can understand hectic schedules.”

That’s another common roadblock in celebrity dating. While it’s nice to have someone who does understand the whirlwind of activity involved in fame, it can be incredibly difficult to coordinate two schedules, timezones, and actually have time together beyond a hotel bar or a beach surrounded by paparazzi. Newt nods. “I received a screenplay yesterday,” he informs Tina, though he has no idea why this would be relevant.

“Is it interesting?” Tina asks.

“I have yet to open it,” Newt confesses with a small smile.

Tina laughs. “Maybe your life’s a little too quiet, then.”

“Maybe,” Newt allows. They both fall silent, but it’s a comfortable silence, both of them no doubt replaying the incredibly unorthodox afternoon they just shared. Before Newt knows it, they’ve pulled up in front of the hotel.

“Here,” Tina says, pulling over and parking. “Thanks again. For lunch and... everything.”

Newt can dawdle no longer. Anyway, he really must make amends with Seraphina and Queenie. “Of course,” he replies, then hesitates. He’s never actually _asked_ for a woman’s number before. Generally their contact information was either on the call sheet, previously distributed, or given to him voluntarily. (Or, in the case of fans, hurled at him while on stage. He nearly had his eye taken out once during a live interview.)

Tina bites her lip, acting strangely anxious, and jerks her chin at the door. “You should probably go before people start mobbing you.”

Newt’s voice catches in his throat. “Yes,” he responds, and starts to get out of the car.

“Hey,” Tina stops him suddenly, right before he can step onto the curb. She gestures for Newt to hold out his hand, then presses a folded up scrap of paper into his palm. “Good luck,” is all she says before leaning over and shutting the door for him.

The second she drives off, Newt unfolds the note. There’s a phone number written at the top, followed by,

 

 

> _In case of emergency._
> 
> _Tina_

* * *

When Newt gets back to his hotel room—unaccosted by fans or photographers—it comes as no surprise to find his entire team waiting expectantly.

“Why on _earth_ would you walk in the front entrance?” Seraphina immediately demands, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I didn’t want Tina to—”

“What did I say about _no pictures?”_

“There were no paparazzi!” Newt defends himself.

“Should we discuss Tina, then?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Please, Newton, do _not_ tell me that you intend to pursue this young woman.”

“My schedule is clear tomorrow—”

Queenie jumps in, shaking her head. “We’re meeting with Leta.”

Newt squeezes his eyes shut briefly in physical pain. “Why?”

“It’s probably the only time you two will cross paths until the banquet, and we need to do fittings,” his manager explains patiently.

“I would rather anyone but—”

“You are going with Leta,” Seraphina states imperiously.

Newt racks his brain frantically, trying to think of _any_ actresses who are single, acceptably close to his age, and can grin and bear one event with him. He comes up dry. Everyone’s busy getting married and here he is, 29 years old, stuck taking Leta Lestrange as his last resort date.

“It’s only an evening,” Val says. He checks her coffee cup: _Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come._ “She’s a nice enough girl. Why d’you hate her so much anyway?”

“It isn’t that I _hate_ her,” Newt explains. “It’s that I cannot stomach the prospect of spending more than five minutes of polite conversation with her.”

“You were on Graham Norton with her last year,” Val points out.

“Yes, but Ben was sitting between us,” Newt responds. He’d specifically asked Benedict to do him that favor.

“You are literally a large child,” Val sighs, and ruffles up his hair. Newt ducks and swats her hand away.

“Here is your schedule for tomorrow,” Seraphina interjects, making it abundantly clear that this is the end of the conversation. “Might I suggest an early night?”

Newt gapes at the laminated sheet in horror. “Six o’clock?”

“Oh, please,” Val scoffs. “You’ve been up at three in the morning before.”

“For shooting, yes, but for a meeting with Leta?”

“We have quite a lot of preparation to do in very little time,” Seraphina replies. “Surely you understand.”

Resigning himself to his fate, still clutching Tina’s note in one hand, Newt sinks against his pillows. “Fine,” he acquiesces.

“Good,” Queenie says happily. She really _is_ a wonderful manager, and Newt hates to give anybody grief. It isn’t their fault; it’s just the way the cookie crumbles in stardom.

“Rest up, pal,” Val says, patting him condescendingly on the head as she gets up to leave.

“We’ll see you tomorrow bright and early, hon,” says Queenie, and kisses him on the cheek.

“Goodnight,” Seraphina says coolly.

“Nice,” Val comments dryly. “Very warm.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Queenie reprimands her.

“I’m not being like anything,” Val retorts. “Just thought she could let up on Newt a little.”

“Well, we all love him to pieces, _don’t_ we?” Queenie says, turning to Seraphina.

“Certainly,” Seraphina affirms without a glimmer of conviction.

“She’ll get over it,” Queenie reassures Newt.

“Goodbye,” Newt says pointedly, and the cluster of strong-minded _(overly_ strong-minded, he often thinks) women make their way out of the suite.

* * *

It isn’t an emergency, and he hasn’t made up his mind yet what to do with her number, so Newt seeks Tina out at the police station that Sunday.

“Newt’s here for you!” her coworker yells. Newt starts, surprised to hear the police officer say his name so casually. She winks at Newt. “Chastity Murray. Your disguise really wasn’t that effective. My daughter’s a huge fan, she’s got a cutout of you—Teen!” she shouts again.

“Coming!” Tina responds, and comes into view. She’s changed into a plain gray V-neck tee, cuffed jeans, and ballet flats. “Hi,” she says, beaming.

“Hello,” Newt replies. “I don’t suppose you would want to go to lunch with me?”

She smiles. “Sure. Where?”

This time, Newt has planned ahead. “It’s a small hole-in-the-wall place, actually,” he says. “I discovered it when I came here to shoot my first film. They know me there. Normally they aren’t open on Sundays, but they... made an exception.” In actuality, he had bribed them handsomely; the family who owns the place is so fond of him, however, that they agreed to do it for free.

“Sounds interesting. I brought my car today,” Tina says.

“Always prepared,” Newt comments lightly.

“For what?”

He shrugs. “Going out to lunch with an award-winning actor?”

“I didn’t even watch the Oscars,” Tina tells him, grinning.

“Good,” Newt says in exaggerated relief, “I made a complete fool of myself.”

“You _know_ I’m going to watch it now,” Tina returns. Then she holds up her car keys. “Ready? I’m parked a few blocks away, but we can just go down the alleys here. Bye, Chastity,” she says to her friend.

“Tell me if you see anything suspicious!” the police officer calls as the two walk away. “Constant vigilance!”

Tina waves dismissively at her and leads Newt outside, already checking anxiously for reporters and fans. “What have you been up to?” she asks as they set down the alleyways.

For some reason, Newt doesn’t want to tell Tina about Leta. His hope is that the two of them will go to the benefit banquet, snap a few photographs, and Newt can peel off and find people whose company he actually enjoys. Come to that, he really doesn’t want Tina to know about his fame at all. Every time it comes up, it feels like a wall forcing itself between the two of them. Not to mention the reality that he’s not going to be here much longer, particularly if this movie works out. “Just a bit of publicity and meetings,” he replies. “Certainly not as interesting as your job. Have you heard about the victims?”

Tina nods. “It was fatal for the first driver, the one who got Life Flighted,” she answers ruefully. “You get used to hearing that sort of news, on the force, but... you never get comfortable with it.”

“I’m sorry,” Newt says, and he genuinely is. It’s a stark reminder of the world beyond the scope of his life. Nobody is invincible; at the end of the day, everyone is human.

“It’s alright,” Tina says sadly. “The woman we saved is okay. She suffered some paralysis below the waist, but the doctors think it’s only temporary. And the other two survived as well.” They reach her car.

Newt thinks for a moment. “Could we visit them?” he asks suddenly.

Tina halts, her hand on the door handle. She looks taken aback. “Why?”

“I...” Newt isn’t sure why. He just knows that he wants to see them, to talk to them, because that one afternoon with Tina has inexplicably humbled him. “I don’t actually know.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tina promises, though she watches him quizzically for a moment before unlocking the doors and getting in.

“At the very least, they provided an exceedingly interesting afternoon,” Newt adds as he buckles up.  

“Probably not what you expected this trip to New York to be like, huh,” she says, turning the ignition.

“It is considerably more interesting than I expected,” he agrees.

Newt directs Tina to the restaurant: when he said hole-in-the-wall, he _meant_ hole-in-the-wall. They can barely fit into the tiny gravel parking lot near the back, but manage to maneuver their way out and stand before a deceptively dilapidated door.

“This is cute,” Tina comments, impressed, when they walk inside.

“I always thought so. Hello, Mary,” Newt greets the owner.

Mary throws her arms around him. “Newt! How long has it been?”

“Too long,” he responds, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Anything for our favorite customer. He was just a scrawny little thing when we first met,” she informs Tina, then squeezes Newt’s arm and shakes her head in disapproval. “But _that_ hasn’t changed.”

“I’m Tina,” Tina introduces herself, glancing warmly at an embarrassed Newt.

“Ah, Tina! Now, which movie did you star in with Newt?” Mary asks keenly. “I’ve watched them all, of course, but I can’t say as I recall you.”

“Oh, I didn’t—we didn’t meet on set,” Tina says.

“What work have you done? You look familiar—”

“I’m not an actress,” Tina says, sounding annoyed.

“You must be a singer then? A model?”

“No, I’m not a celebrity,” Tina almost snaps, and Newt cringes at the expression on her face. “I’m just a cop.”

Mary, of course, is well-meaning and doesn’t mind, but a slightly awkward silence descends nonetheless. “That’s wonderful,” she professes, resuscitating the welcoming smile that had briefly faded. “My son works as a cop out in San Francisco.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Newt says firmly, and gestures for Tina to sit down at a quaint little table, where their places have already been set and menus propped open. Any lingering traces of discomfort seem to dissipate once they order and fall back into easy conversation.

At one point Tina confesses that, despite having grown up in the area, she’s always wanted to travel, and envies Newt for the opportunities he’s gotten. He stops himself before offering to take her on his private jet (that, he knows, is _not_ a good idea, even if he’s given up on the ‘just friends’ line). However, he can’t help but imagine being able to bring someone like Tina along with him—just to travel the world for the hell of it. Newt feels increasingly as though his money is entirely useless if he has nobody to invest anything in.

“I guess I’m used to being alone, but the idea of traveling solo just...” Tina makes a face and shakes her head. “Even if I had the time or money, I wouldn’t have anyone to go with. I’m in my element in Manhattan. Anywhere else, all bets are off.”

“I feel the same,” Newt concurs; Tina’s gaze meets his and they both smile for longer than probably necessary, long enough for Newt to clear his throat and Tina to avert her eyes before changing the subject.

“So when are you leaving?” she asks carefully.

“I have no idea,” Newt admits. “Soon, unfortunately.”

Tina’s face seems to fall. “Oh,” she says quietly.

“I, erm... brought something,” Newt informs her conspiratorially, hoping to raise her spirits. He’s touched, though, that she would be let down to realize that he won’t be around forever. Not that he has any sort of agenda here. He can't afford to, really.

“I’m just gonna remind you that I work for law enforcement, so I’m legally bound to take action if you’ve got something illegal in there,” Tina responds, gesturing to his briefcase.

“Nothing like that,” he reassures her. “Do you remember the screenplay I mentioned to you?”

Tina nods. Newt takes a fat manila envelope out of his case and drops it on the table between them.

“I was wondering if you might take a look.” He pushes it over to her. “I wanted to know what you think.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

He shrugs. “You'll likely be significantly less biased than my agent, although I must say Val is proving to be brutally honest. She thought it was a fitting role.”

“Is this allowed?” Tina whispers, glancing around the room as if the Screenplay Police is going to run in and arrest her. To be fair, CONFIDENTIAL is stamped all over the envelope and screenplay.

Newt quirks the corner of his mouth. “I’m a celebrity. I can bend the rules.”

Tina tentatively flips it to the first page. “You know this is gonna take awhile, right?” she says. “I can skim.”

“Not a problem.” Newt sighs and withdraws a giant bundle of headshots and a silver Sharpie. “Queenie has forced me to sign these.”

“You're really gonna sign autographs while I read this?” Tina asks in amusement.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Do you recommend I do something else? I could sit here and watch you read,” he suggests, and scoots closer to her.

“Yeah, no, I prefer the autographs,” Tina decides, laughing.

The time passes quickly. Once Newt’s fingers are sufficiently stained with silver, and the entire building is nearly flammable with Sharpie vapor, Tina puts down the screenplay and looks at Newt. “Well?” he asks anxiously.

“I’m no expert, but I think it’d be perfect for you too,” comes the verdict.

“Really?” Newt says.

Tina smiles. “Yeah. To be honest, I haven’t seen all of your films—or any, except bits and pieces—but from the time I’ve spent with you in the past what, 48 hours? I say you should go for it.”

Somehow, Tina’s word means more than anybody else’s has. Possibly because she’s an outside party—she barely understands Newt’s world, and she’s acting purely on gut feeling. And possibly because she’s Tina, and, it would seem, on her way to becoming exceptionally important to Newt. “I’ll call Steven tomorrow,” he says.

“Of course you’re on a first name basis with Steven Spielberg,” Tina responds somewhat incredulously, and hands him the screenplay. “Thanks for sharing it with me.”

“Thank you for reading it,” Newt returns. He truly means it. Forget significant others; Newt hasn’t had any _good_ friends, or even people he can bounce ideas off of, for quite some time.

“Yeah, no problem,” Tina responds.

Once everything is packed up and Mary and the kitchen staff are duly thanked, Newt and Tina debate what to do next. Tina originally proposes that they go for a walk, but Newt doesn’t have sunglasses, and he’s been getting it with both barrels from Seraphina about not being seen in public with a mysterious woman. Which he has to agree is reasonable.

“You’ll be fine at the police station,” Tina points out. “I can grab us some ice cream or something and we can hang out in the lunchroom.”

Newt hates the fact that he can’t walk into an ice cream shop with someone he likes, but he agrees, and they take a couple malted milkshakes back to the station. It’s about as unglamorous as could be, particularly compared to the ‘dates’ Newt has gone on with other actresses—yet he has more fun in the hours spent here than he thinks he’s ever had with anyone.

Tina’s coworkers are easygoing and cheerful, and happily sit down to relate their own crazy stories. “We’ve gotten a lot of celebrity calls before,” one policeman says, “but no one’s ever brought one back with them.” Then he winks and claps Newt on the back. “Tina’s a good one. Don’t let her go.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Tina says, embarrassed.

At around 8 o’clock, abruptly realizing how dark it is outside, the two of them have to part ways. This time, Tina pulls up to the back entrance after they’ve been tipped off that there are paps waiting around the marquee.

“Goodnight,” Newt says cordially, and they gaze at one another over the console for a long moment, each finding it strangely difficult to look away.

“Thanks,” Tina says quietly. He nods, wondering if there’s anything in particular he should do right now, because it’s only their second... well, neither of them have exactly defined any sort of budding relationship. “I don’t have a lot of friends,” she admits, “and it’s just nice having... someone. You know, who isn’t married, or takes their job too seriously.”

“Of course,” he replies. _Friends._ So they’re just friends. Which is fine. It’s all fine. He nods again, licks his lips nervously, and then gets out. “Goodnight, Tina,” he says, stepping onto the pavement.

Before he can leave, the passenger seat window rolls down. “Hey, Newt?” Tina asks softly. He stops, leans down and sticks his head inside the car. “Was this a date?”

“I—it—I'm—” he stammers, caught off guard and entirely uncertain what to say.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Tina says quickly, and turns the ignition, refusing to look at him. “Night.” With that, she drives off.

Newt composes a text.

When Tina gets back and checks her phone, a message from an unknown number pops up. 

> _If you want it to be._

* * *

Newt wasn’t kidding when he asked if he could meet the victims from the car crash. Tina gets permission to pass on their contact information, and after much wheedling Newt convinces Seraphina to call the hospital, pleased for once that she approves of one of his schemes.

“It’ll be great publicity,” Val backs Newt up.

The hospital is, unsurprisingly, overjoyed to receive the call. Newt can drop by whenever he wants. He asks that they keep it a surprise for the patients, not because he assumes that they’re all devoted fans, but he’s doing his utmost to keep a rather low profile.

“Yeah, chances of that are slim to none,” his ever-optimistic agent informs him when he mentions something along the lines. Today her tumbler reads _I don’t need you, you’re not coffee._

“I can _try,”_ Newt points out.

“Good luck, pal,” Val sighs, and turns back to her computer.

Seraphina and Queenie put their foot down, however, when Newt asks if Tina could come as well. “You’re awful at being subtle, honey, and we aren’t even _talking_ about you and Tina going public,” Queenie says regretfully.

“No,” Seraphina adds succinctly, with much less regret.

The stars align, and two days later Newt is on his way to meet the victims of the accident. He is, of course, excited, but also bemoaning the fact that he hasn’t seen Tina in the past 48 hours. She’s been swamped and working double time with an upsurge in gang violence; Newt keeps worrying inordinately that she’ll get stabbed to death while he’s off smiling for pictures. Val tells him to get it together, Queenie tells him not to worry, and Seraphina adopts a pained expression.

Newt’s biggest concern now is that this visit will come off as a publicity stunt. There is no escaping the media, so they all decide to bite the bullet and arrange for photographs to be taken. _He_ personally wants a moment alone with the woman, but, as Val continually reminds him, you want what you want.

When the time comes, his meeting with the two other victims are well documented and enjoyable. But once it’s his turn to see the young woman—Modesty Wood-Blagrove—Newt looks imploringly at Queenie.

“We’ll take pictures as soon as he’s done speaking with her,” Queenie tells the photographers.

“Her reaction—” Seraphina starts.

Queenie shakes her head firmly. “Let her parents get it on camera. Newt deserves this _tiny_ amount of privacy.” Nobody argues—nobody ever does, when Queenie puts her foot down—so she gestures for Newt to open the door. “We’ll be outside, honey,” she says, and squeezes his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Newt enters the room. “Hello,” he says kindly. The young woman in the bed blanches, eyes swiveling to her parents, who are holding up their phones, beaming and filming the entire thing. Queenie thought it would be a nice touch to let the parents know ahead of time. Now Newt gives them a little wave as he walks over to her. “You’re Modesty?”

Modesty nods. She’s only 21, a slip of a thing, and, as it later turns out, a devout fan. “I—you—I heard that maybe—but I didn’t think—me—”

“May I sit here?” Newt asks politely. She nods again, vehemently, and he takes a seat next to the bed.

“I thought I was hallucinating, oh my god,” Modesty says, hands coming up to cover her mouth, and suddenly tears are spilling from her eyes. Unfortunately, Newt has had a substantial amount of experience over the years with young women crying upon meeting him, and it took some time for him to realize that it wasn’t _bad_ crying. He still doesn’t understand it.

“Oh, bugger,” he says in slight dismay, because as accustomed to it as he is, he doesn’t _want_ to make people cry. “Here,” he hands Modesty a Kleenex from the bedside table. “Please don’t be upset.”

She takes the tissue and sniffles. “You’re—you saved my life—”

“For the record, I was not the only one who aided in the rescue efforts,” Newt establishes.

“No, I mean I...” Modesty licks her lips nervously, then swallows. “Before. You—I went through a rough patch, I was in the—in the hospital because of it, and you... helped.”

Not the first time he’s heard a story like that, either, but it certainly tugs at Newt’s heartstrings all the same. “I haven’t the faintest _how,_ but I’m very glad.” When he looks up, he makes startling eye contact with Modesty’s mother, and he’s hit by the enormity of her own suffering. Though he has no strong feelings about parenthood, he can only imagine how it might feel to have your daughter go through so much and feel virtually helpless.

Modesty is still stammering. “This—this is—and I never _thought_ I would get to meet you—”

“Well, now you’ve met me, haven’t you,” Newt says encouragingly, reaching over and patting her hand. She clutches his fingers almost desperately, and given the way they first met Newt doesn’t mind one bit.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Of course. You are remarkably brave,” Newt adds. He locks eyes with her parents as he says so, getting a sad smile from her mother and a gruff nod from her father. “And you will recover?” he asks.

“I’ll have to take a year off of school, but they think rehab will help.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“A hug would be nice,” Modesty says tentatively, sitting up.

“Of course,” Newt replies; honestly, it’s the least he could do. He leans over and embraces Modesty. Then, for good measure, he kisses her swiftly on the cheek (which, unsurprisingly, he’s used to doing at countless conventions; he’s also inevitably had a few fans try to French kiss him mid-pose). He realizes belatedly that the door to the room has swung open and there stand two photographers, cameras clicking madly, followed by a distraught Queenie and furious Seraphina.

Modesty freezes, arms still looped around Newt’s neck, before taking stock of the situation and nearly jumping away from him. He straightens up and starts, “It is _not_ what it—”

“Enough,” Seraphina says frostily, placing a hand over one of the camera’s lenses. Suddenly another photographer materializes, having somehow forced his way into the hospital, to get a shot of Newt Scamander’s new paralyzed girlfriend.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Queenie says sharply to everybody. “Newt, come with me. You”—she gestures to the photographers—“leave _now.”_

“I’m so sorry,” Newt apologizes hurriedly to Modesty, and follows his manager out the door. Cameras swivel around to follow him and then turn on Modesty, who appears stricken and drowning amongst hospital blankets. The absolute worst part about the entire thing is the stony glare Newt receives from her father right before he gets up and slams the door.

* * *

“Do you _know_ what that looked like?” Seraphina seethes once the situation has been wrestled under control and Val has met them back at the hotel.

“Come on, Seraphina, he was supposed to be alone!” Val snaps.

“I can see the headlines _now—_ Newt Scamander saves 21-year-old student from Brooklyn, then dates her and probably pays for her hospital bills too—” Truthfully, Newt had been planning to offer such a favor. This doesn’t help matters.

“It’s fine, there’s a good explanation for it,” Val interjects.

Seraphina turns on her. “I have no idea _where_ you came from, Percival, but suffice to say the media does _not_ care about good explanations! They care about a good story, and a good photo, and unfortunate for all of us, they have gotten _both_ of them today.” She hurls a few prints onto the coffee table. Newt cringes; the angle of the shot makes it look quite as though he was legitimately kissing Modesty on the lips.

“I gotta agree with Sera,” Queenie concedes ruefully, pushing herself off the counter and sitting down on the couch. “We could be in for it.”

“I am going to do some damage control,” Seraphina announces, retreating into the second bedroom of the suite, “and you are going to stay put and not start any more PR disasters today. That will be all.”

“I’m sorry, Newt,” Queenie says softly.

“Modesty said I saved her life,” Newt muses, ignoring his manager. He stares intently at a spot on the wall opposite. “And now she will think it was all a publicity stunt.”

“She won’t think that,” Queenie promises. “She won’t. She’s smarter than that, she knows you weren’t expecting the cameras to be there.”

“Her father was prepared to _kill_ me.”

“You can’t do anything about it now,” Queenie points out. “Sera’s all in a lather, but there’s still a reasonable explanation. She’s got it under control.”

Newt _hates_ being famous. The speed with which rumors can spread—he’s heard of helicopters circling celebrities’ houses hoping to catch a picture of them with someone they’ve never spoken to before but are allegedly dating—is frightening, even if it isn’t ultimately destructive to his career. It’s just a proper mess to deal with.

“Don’t worry about Tina,” Val pipes up, going to the Keurig to brew another cup. _I'm Sarcastic Because Punching People Is Frowned Upon,_ her mug reads. “She’s not gonna buy it for a minute.”

Newt hadn’t considered Tina—but Val is right. At least Tina will understand. This is marginally reassuring. He still feels terrible for Modesty and her family, though; her name is now public, seeing as they were going to do a piece on it already, and the last thing her parents need in the midst of their daughter’s situation is to deal with an unintentional media scandal.

“It’ll be fine, pal,” Val tells him bracingly. Queenie nods in agreement, lips pressed into a tight line. “It’ll be totally fine.”

* * *

Sure enough, Newt’s ever efficient team manages to staunch the bleeding, so to speak. Val, for her part, seriously seems to think she knows everything there is to know about both Seraphina and Queenie’s jobs, and unfortunate for the two women’s egos (but fortunate for Newt) she does. As such, after a solid 24 hours of damage control and accumulation of increasingly cynical coffee mugs strewn across Newt’s hotel room, everything has calmed down. Newt wants to personally apologize to Modesty’s parents, and he feels absolutely horrible about the amount of hate the 21-year-old had sustained in light of this ridiculous rumor. Because of this hate, which resulted in her deleting all social media, Modesty’s parents have refused to talk to Newt, leaving him distraught.

“It’s okay,” Tina tells him bracingly. Against everybody’s advisement, Newt shot Tina a quick text about the situation as soon as Seraphina went on the defense. She told him to come to the police station as she’d just gotten off work, and spends the evening helping Newt hide from reality. They order Chinese takeout, Chastity donates some homemade chocolate chip cookies, and by the end of the evening Newt feels a smidge better.

“At least _you_ believe me,” Newt says wearily, wrapping his hands round a steaming mug of tea. Tina makes very good tea, which coming from a British person is resounding praise.

“Yeah, somehow I find it hard to believe you’d be dating a 21-year-old anyway,” Tina responds. “Although I don’t know, maybe that’s your type.”

At the mention of his ‘type’, Newt tenses up slightly, because _that_ veers a little too close to a conversation he does not want to have. “I don’t know as I have much of a type,” he replies evenly.

“What about Leta Lestrange?” Tina asks the dreaded question.

“Never,” Newt says in horror. “I would _never.”_

“To be honest, I always thought her acting was kinda overrated,” Tina confesses.

Newt is delighted. “She is... remarkably unpleasant.”

“You don’t seem the sort of guy to hate someone,” Tina remarks. “People like you.”

Newt shakes his head. “Not really, no. I annoy people.”

“I have a hard time believing _that.”_

“I think you’ll find that a great deal of celebrities are quite annoying,” Newt informs her. “We are only human, after all. Regardless of how the media may portray us. Or what screaming girls might think.”

“If you say so,” Tina says dubiously.

“I shall do my utmost to be more annoying in your presence, then,” Newt quips.

Tina laughs. “Good. Don’t want to turn into one of those screaming girls.”

Eventually, Newt can ignore the barrage of texts from his team no longer. Tina offers to drive him back, but this time he declines, unwilling to take any risks at this point. Despite the situation with Modesty being straightened out, paparazzi have certainly turned a keen eye to Newt now. It’s honestly against his own better judgment that he continues to see Tina anyway. Especially after the social media backlash Modesty received, he would absolutely hate for Tina to be subject to the same treatment—made worse, in this scenario, by the fact that he actually _does_ want to be dating her.

“Glad you have your head on straight,” Val says when he expresses these sentiments.

“Partly straight, anyway,” Newt allows.

The excitement doesn’t end. A masked man breaks into Newt's hotel room with a gun the very next day, agitated and evidently mentally unstable. Newt raises his hands in surrender, tosses his wallet at the guy, and slowly backs into the bathroom, where, fingers trembling, he dials 911. Newt whispers into the phone, terrified for his life, as the gunman roots through his belongings. It seems like eons, but as luck would have it, there were two units responding to a call only a block away and it's a matter of minutes before he hears,

“NYPD, open the door!”

Silence. The thief clearly isn't going to let them in willingly.

“NYPD, open the door!”

Still nothing.

Another voice chimes in. “NYPD, drop the gun! Drop the gun!” It sounds like...

Tina barges in, guns blazing (pun intended), followed by a few other officers, all of whom have their own weapons raised as they shout at the culprit.

“Hands on your head! Drop the gun!” another officer barks. The suspect is still gripping the gun, hand shaking.

“DROP THE GUN!” Tina roars. She glances over at Newt, then back at the robber with steely eyes and a set jaw.

The culprit doesn't move.

“I'm moving in,” she tells her partner, a burly and intimidating policeman, who nods. “Taser,” Tina directs the third officer tightly. He readies himself. His partner, a young woman, does too. “I'm giving you one more warning,” Tina says evenly, gritting her teeth, as she slowly steps toward the robber. “Drop the gun.”

“No,” he sneers. Tina has him on the ground in two seconds flat, one knee digging into his neck, and knocks the gun out of his hands, kicking it across the floor. The other officers return their weapons—thankfully unused—to their belts and hurry over. The burglar is handcuffed and going nowhere.

From her crouched position and having read the gunman his rights, Tina makes eye contact with a stricken Newt, who's stood forlornly in the doorway of the bathroom. She stands up.

“Sir—” the female officer starts.

“Newt,” Tina interrupts, and walks quickly over to him. “You okay?”

“I...” That was one of the more terrifying experiences of his life. “Yes?”

“Good.” Tina reaches out as though to hug him, but stops and pats him gruffly on the shoulder instead.

“You know him?” her partner asks in surprise.

“Yeah, I responded to the call about his, uh, fans going rogue a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh,” the police officer from the other unit interjects knowingly. Tina shoots her a sharp look. “Officer Barebones, nice to meet ya. My sister’s in love with you.”

“That's... very nice,” Newt manages.

“We’ll take him down to the station and get your statement later, okay?” Tina smiles encouragingly.

“Alright,” Newt agrees. Truth be told, he would much rather she stay—this was hardly an ideal way for her to end up in his hotel room. 

“Alright,” Tina echoes, and gestures to her coworkers and a now subdued suspect. “Let's go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously need some fake movie titles for Newt to reference, especially in the goodbye scene. Comment ideas below and I’ll feature them. I also need general plot and title ideas for The Movie that Newt’s going to be working on. So, if for some reason you actually feel like plotting a movie for Newt to star in, and throw in some cast as well, you can email it to me at naughtyniffler@gmail.com. Or just comment it below.


	3. I hope we're in the air all night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Right,” Newt says hurriedly, turning back to Tina. They stand there for a moment that seems to stretch on forever. Then Newt reaches forward and touches Tina’s hair gently, fingertips lingering against her temple. Not sure what just came over him, he lets his hand fall. “Goodbye,” he says one more time, and forces himself to walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a poor suffering college student, and this is finals week, so I have been busy. But I've been staring at this chapter forever, and figured I should just go ahead and post it.
> 
> Also: Modesty is an important character in this, so even though it may be boring to detract from the Newt/Tina relationship, bear with. I tend to expand casts of my stories quite a bit, but will do my best to stay focused on the couple.
> 
> If you're getting BBC Sherlock vibes from Newt, that's probably because I spent a solid year avidly writing Johnlock fanfiction. (I didn't post it, though, and now it's quite after the fact.)

_I'll follow the wind, I'm up for a spin  
_ _And we're takin' flight, the whole world is right  
_ _I hope we're in the air all night_

**~*~**

Now, Newt figures, he has a very good excuse to see Tina again.

“Perhaps a photo?” he suggests the following morning.

“We are leaving in two days,” Seraphina reminds him. “And you know you cannot be seen with her if you don’t want suppositions to break out.”

Newt’s stomach sinks. “Then let me see Tina,” he bargains. “You know it will be over once I leave.” He fervently hopes this isn't true, but it's a grim reality he has to accept. The fact that he hasn't told her that he's leaving yet... well, what is she going to say? They hardly know each other, really, and much as he would love to stay behind, he can't. He's got photoshoots, he's got TV spots, he's got this goddamn banquet.

Speaking of which, Leta was insufferable as usual. Something about her _irks_ him; perhaps it's her sickly sweet smile crafted just for the camera, or the way she talks as though she's the very important hostess of a party and everyone else is graced by her presence. She isn't all too fond of him either, so at least it's mutual. And it isn’t just them: Seraphina gets along alright with Leta’s publicist, but Queenie and Leta’s new manager butted heads the entire day. Why everyone insists that this ridiculous charade continue is beyond all comprehension.

However, Newt is eager to leave that particular memory in the past, and focus on getting the most out of his time with Tina. They still haven't actually _called_ anything a date, though she responded with an “okay” and a smiley face the other night.

Of course the media blows up over his ‘near death experience’. Seraphina makes certain that the identity of the cops involved remain confidential. Newt is annoyed, only because he thinks Tina ought to get credit where credit is due, but understands that it’s for the best.

“It’s Kim Kardashian all over again,” Val sighs. She used to have connections to the Kardashians until, according to her, she eventually came to her senses. “There’s a lot less perfume and tears involved in this gig,” she tells Newt, by way of a compliment.

Seraphina still staunchly refuses to acknowledge Tina’s existence as anything more than a police officer threatening her client’s public image, and Queenie is clearly torn between wanting Newt to be happy and knowing that this is a recipe for disaster. Val, on the other hand, seems more than ever to be aiding and abetting. It does nothing to improve her and Seraphina’s camaraderie, particularly after _The New York Times_ misquotes her as Newt’s publicist.

“If you're gonna keep showing up unannounced, this is all off the record,” Val informs Newt when he comes by after he’s been shot down by Seraphina. “Capisce?”

“Alright,” Newt agrees.

“So, I assume you're here about Tina?”

“Well, yes.”

Val crosses her arms and swivels slowly side to side in her desk chair, eyeing Newt shrewdly. “Don't get too fancy,” she advises him. “I know you're a star, but if you're gonna woo someone from the general public, it won't do you any favors to remind her exactly how famous you are. So do something simple and nice.”

“But I can hardly go anywhere,” Newt says in frustration. “If I get into a bloody car, the media's already spinning tales of me having a secret affair with someone I've never met.”

“Isn't it lovely being famous,” Val says sarcastically, and pats him on the arm. “Who was it you were rumored to be sleeping with a couple years ago? Helen Mirren?”

Newt groans. _“Please_ do not remind me.” That had been a real nightmare to deal with. Never mind that she’s years his senior _and_ happily married. Oh, and they've never even been in the same room before.

“Just... get her a cheap bouquet of roses, tell her she looks nice, and take her out for dinner,” is Val’s final advice. “You got two more days, plus tonight.”

“What will happen once I leave?” Newt frets.

Val shrugs. “She’ll either move on or she’ll wait for you indefinitely. But you can't control how she feels. Just make this a kickass date.”

“I do wish I had more practice,” Newt laments.

“Don't we all,” replies Val, then gives him a shove towards the door. “Scoot.”

* * *

If Newt had to be careful about his movements being tracked before, now the media is waiting with bated breath for any hints that he might soon have an affair with the nameless life-saving cop, so really it's bad news all around. Instead, he manages to take some very circuitous routes around the city in order to reach the police station. It certainly gives him a reason to memorize the layout of Manhattan and discover all sorts of shortcuts.

What Newt initially mistook as disinterest in Tina, he’s realizing, may be something more like... shyness? Not shyness, per se. Wariness, perhaps. At least he knows now that it isn’t personal. And despite his lack of experience, Newt is feeling more confident the more they talk.

Time at the station flies by far too fast and before he knows it Tina is waving him goodbye and he’s back to the hotel, ducking his head beneath a visor and having a few close calls with lurking paparazzi. Ryan Gosling is out and about the city, apparently, which diverts some of the attention from Newt. He wishes, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that he didn’t have to rely on people like that. Not just Ryan, or other celebrities, either. Down-to-earth and humble he may be, but Newt has barely even had a _chance_ to live a life without assistants at his beck and call and three pseudo-mothers managing his every move.

Upon returning to the hotel, Newt, ever the obliging client, agrees to spend this time working with Queenie and Seraphina as they go through his upcoming projects and pending requests.

“I called Steven,” Newt informs the two women. “I've decided to do the film.”

“Did Tina tell you to?” Queenie asks kiddingly.

“Erm... perhaps,” Newt answers vaguely. Queenie’s expression goes from teasing to exasperated.

“Good lord, Newton,” Seraphina says faintly, “if you have really decided to adopt a _police officer_ as your new agent—”

“I just asked her opinion!” Newt protests. “Besides, is that not what actors do? Involve their significant others in such decisions?”

“Yes, but she isn't your significant other,” Seraphina replies stolidly.

“Friends, then. God forbid I should confide in a single person who has not been approved by you and the media—” Newt begins, but Val intervenes.

“Pipe down, the both of you,” she snaps. Her mug seems to agree with the sentiment: _Shut up when you're talking to me._ She turns to Newt. “Now. They'll want you in for a meeting and an official audition, but from the sounds of it Steven designed the role with you in mind.”

“He said they haven't chosen a director yet,” Newt states.

“Yeah, it's been a bit haphazard,” Val admits. “Filming’s been pushed up a few months because there was a whole snafu with location scouts, and some budget cuts. Nothing the esteemed Newt Scamander can't handle, I'm sure.”

“Where and when are the auditions?” Across the table, Queenie has gone full out manager; she's sporting hipster reading glasses, impeccably curled hair pulled back into a short ponytail, a massive overstuffed planner spread before her, and a lineup of writing utensils and highlighters at her elbow. She doesn't seem the kind to be very anal retentive—Seraphina is much more likely—but when it comes time to plan Newt’s life, there's no one better suited for the job.

Val takes a sip of coffee and shakes her head. “Still figuring that out. Probably L.A., but maybe Canada. He said he'll get back to us about that. Since the role was written for Newt, it'll just be chemistry tests.”

Queenie is far from satisfied with the ambiguity of this information. Looking imperiously over her glasses at Val (doing an excellent impression of Seraphina, if Newt is being honest), she persists, “Dates?” It's April now; the benefit banquet is slated for May 5, and time seems to be flying by.

“Around mid-May, probably,” Val replies. “If you can carve out a chunk there”—she points to a block, blessedly blank, on the calendar—“we’ll figure it out.”

Queenie gets to work highlighting. “It could throw a wrench in Newt’s _GQ_ photoshoot,” she warns the others. “We’ll have to check schedule conflicts... but that’ll be the day when everything falls perfectly into place.” There are interviews to be scheduled, itineraries to be sketched out, and papers to sign—even a tentative trip to Asia to be discussed. Newt thinks of Tina wanting to travel, and feels a familiar pang. But things could change, he reminds himself. It's far too soon to say.

 

Newt starts when, a few hours of strategizing and arguing later, Val checks the clock and nudges him not so subtly.

Seraphina sighs. “Tina?” she asks wearily.

Newt and his agent look at each other. “It’s his second to last day,” Val defends him. “Give him a break.”

“I trust you will be wise and covert,” Seraphina says very threateningly. “I fully intend to enjoy a well-deserved evening off, and I do not want to abandon my date because Newt Scamander has gone rogue all over Manhattan.”

“Who's your date?” Val asks before Newt can respond.

“A friend of Jacob’s,” Queenie interjects, beaming. “He's real smart—he's an engineer from MIT—and I think they're _perfect_ together.”

For all their angst, Newt feels rather protective of his team, and 1. does not want his headstrong publicist being played (hence his relief at finding out that this date is someone normal and not a celebrity), and 2. persistently worries that if and when Seraphina does settle down, he might lose her. She’s been with him for nearly a decade now.

“Good luck, then,” Newt says sincerely.

Seraphina grants him a legitimate smile. “You as well, Newton. No pictures,” she adds sternly, pointing a finger at him.

“No pictures,” Newt pledges, already halfway out the door.

When he shows up at the police station, however, disaster strikes: Tina’s been forced to help out with a series of gang assaults in Brooklyn and won’t be done until 11:30 at the earliest. She feels terrible; Newt, tamping down his own disappointment, is more concerned about her safety and the fact that she must be very tired. In the brief ten minutes between the end of her planned shift and the beginning of her impromptu one, he races to the nearest Starbucks, where luckily the manager knows him and has always been appropriately discreet, and gets Tina a coffee, despite her protests.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asks anxiously, watching her check her duty belt.

“Positive,” she replies in a less than convincing tone. Behind her professional, steadfast facade Newt can tell she’s strained and exhausted. “It’s what I do, anyway. I don’t really have a choice.”

“Text me when you’re done?” he says.

Tina smiles and nods. “Yeah, will do.”

“Tina!” her partner Hank calls gruffly. He pokes his head in. “Sorry,” he apologizes to Newt, “but we really gotta get going.”

“I understand,” Newt replies.

“Good man,” the policeman says approvingly, and claps Newt on the shoulder. “I’ll take care of her.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” Tina insists from the doorway. “Keys?”

Hank tosses them to her and winks at Newt. “She gets a bit bossy on duty.”

The bossy police officer groans. “We’re leaving _now._ Bye, Newt,” she adds, and closes the door, leaving a very disappointed A-list actor in her wake.

* * *

It’s moments like these when Newt sincerely wishes he had someone to talk to. He has over a thousand contacts on his phone (partly because he’s terribly disorganized) and hundreds of unread messages at all times. But as he scrolls through his contacts, skipping over names of makeup artists and set designers and producers and publicists and caterers and other celebrities, he wonders what it must be like to be _normal_ and to have someone to turn to. Growing up an only child and a bit of an oddball meant that Newt had few friends, and he isn't exactly known for being excessively sociable in the industry. There are plenty of opportunities, of course, but it would seem he is ill-equipped to take them. It certainly doesn't help matters that he's woefully single and double dates are out of the question.

Newt goes back to the hotel quietly. In the restaurant below, he manages to catch a glimpse of Seraphina. She looks happy and relaxed with her date, which genuinely reassures Newt. Like it or not, his team is his family. He only hopes they’ll stick together, because if he does pursue this Tina business, as he fully intends to do at this point... well, he’ll need them more than ever. And deep down, he knows that Seraphina wants what’s best for him, even if it’s not what’s best for his career.

Newt smiles to himself and heads back to his room. Once inside, he sits down on the edge of his bed, flipping his phone over in his hands pensively. His first thought is Queenie; out of his entire team, he has to admit he feels the closest to her. She has been in parts a maternal figure (despite being only five years older) as well as a sister, friend, and, first and foremost, top-notch manager for the past seven years. But Jacob’s just returned from _The Great British Baking Show,_ where he claimed a first place prize, and Queenie says she isn’t sure which she’s looking forward to more: getting her husband or getting her kitchen back. Newt shoots off a quick text asking her to say hello to Jacob for him, and calls Val instead.

“She stood you up?” she asks instantly.

Newt explains the situation.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Val says.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

Val hangs up. Twenty minutes later, she’s let herself in—when she even got a room key, Newt doesn’t know—and comes bearing horrible, greasy, MSG-ridden Chinese takeout. Newt’s trainer back in California would kill him, but frankly Newt could not care less about his physique or dieting.

“Them’s the breaks,” Val says sympathetically, after they’re sufficiently bloated and Newt is still dwelling on Tina. She kicks her feet up on the table. “I think she really likes you, though. Honestly.”

“How do you know?” Newt asks skeptically.

Val shrugs. “She could’ve shot you down a long time ago. Celebrity or no. And she doesn’t seem the type to lead someone on just because they’re famous.”

The subject of Modesty comes up next, and Newt wonders if he should try to contact her or her parents again. They aren’t difficult to find. It’s just a matter of how they might react.

Everything worked out in the end, for Modesty. The problem is, even Newt knows he can’t risk being seen within ten blocks of her. Nobody has tapped his phone, though, which leaves one option open. It’s still relatively early in the evening, so, with Val (who is drinking a glass of wine and acting as though _she_ lives here) offering moral support, Newt gets ahold of the Modesty’s home phone and dials.

Modesty answers. “Hello?”

“Modesty?”

There’s a long pause. “...Newt?”

He falters. “I was only wondering, are your parents home?”

“Yeah, I can get Dad.”

“Alright. Wait,” Newt says before she can hand him over, “how are you doing?”

“Fine.” Her voice sounds flat. He cringes. As Val keeps insisting, fame is simultaneously a huge deal and nothing at all. The fact of the matter is that he caused Modesty a great deal of grief, and evidently regardless of his fame, she is reasonably upset. Then, “They think I’ll be walking in less than six months.”

“That’s wonderful!” Newt cringes again, this time at how chirpy his voice has gone. Val quirks an eyebrow and mouths, _That’s wonderful!_ in a very mocking manner. He frowns at her. “Er... I want to apologize to you. It was—it was difficult to prevent.”

“You could’ve maybe not had cameras there in the first place,” Modesty suggests somewhat frostily.

Newt looks helplessly at his agent, who shrugs and smugly goes back to typing on her phone. “I did not initially want to—”

“Well, you did. Here’s Dad.”

“Modesty—”

“George Blagrove,” her father announces curtly.

“Hi,” Newt says incredibly anxiously.

There’s an even longer silence than Newt received from Modesty. Then, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Sir. I, er... none of us had any idea that the cameras might be there, nor that they would catch us in a—a compromising posi...” Newt’s voice trails off as he realizes that this apology is rapidly falling apart at the seams.

“A compromising position? You were caught with your arms around my daughter, _kissing_ her, even when you _knew_ there was a chance of cameras showing up,” George fumes. “We were told that there were no cameras for this visit.”

“There weren’t supposed to be,” Newt tries to explain.

“Enough,” the belligerent man says, and hangs up.

Before Newt can recover, his phone rings again, from the same number.

“Sorry about that,” Modesty apologizes. “He’s a little worked up.”

“Evidently.” Newt hesitates. “Modesty, I _truly_ am sorry.”

“You really messed things up for me, you know that?”

Newt swallows. “I know.”

“I got _death_ threats.”

Those aren’t unusual in stardom. Nearly every woman Newt has dated or befriended has withstood online hate. But Modesty shouldn’t have to deal with that. “I’m so sorry. I know it may not count for much—”

“Yeah, not really.” Modesty pauses. Her tone of voice shifts from hurt to almost amused. “Wow, I never thought I’d be having a fight with my favorite celebrity.”

“I never thought I’d be having a fight with a fan,” Newt replies. Then, shaking his head, he corrects, “Not a fan. You’re my friend. It... I _am_ sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Modesty finally says, and Newt heaves a sigh of relief. “How long will you be around?”

“I’m leaving in a couple days,” he says ruefully.

“Maybe you could visit, the next time you’re in the area,” Modesty suggests. “When are you coming back?”

“Hopefully soon.” Hopeful for more reason than one. Newt is fairly certain the astute 21-year-old is onto him.

Sure enough, she says, “Hey, I heard about your near miss the other day. Who saved you? They said the names were kept confidential, but I’m dying to know. My friend’s mom works for the NYPD.”

“If I tell you, you cannot tell a _soul,”_ Newt says seriously.

“Okay,” Modesty agrees.

“It was a cop I met a little while ago. Tina Goldstein.”

Modesty gasps. “Oh my god, my friend knows her! Her mom’s name is Chastity, I don’t know if you’ve met—Tina talked my friend down from the Manhattan Bridge last year, it was in the papers and everything.” Newt, if anything, is more impressed than ever. Then Modesty asks the weighted question. “Are you dating?”

Val tosses a balled up napkin at Newt to get his attention and shakes her head vehemently, dragging her index finger across her throat in a _stop talking now_ motion. “In a manner of speaking,” Newt responds. It’s true, honestly. The two of them haven’t really gone on enough dates to be considered actively dating. Val throws up her hands in defeat.

“That’s so sweet,” and he can hear Modesty beaming. This is reassuring, given that he knows how many so-called fangirls would be ready to take Tina down if they found out. “If you ever need anything let me know. I don’t know what you’d need, but I’m around.”

“Thank you,” Newt says, not sure what else to do.

Val hurls a pillow at her client. “Hang up now,” she orders.

Newt decides to oblige, having put her through enough. “I have to go, but please tell your parents that I _am_ sorry and I hope to speak with them soon.”

“Okay,” Modesty agrees. “Good luck with Tina. I'm around if I can do anything to help.”

Newt smiles. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVER?” Val screeches the second he hangs up.

“I trust her,” he says simply.

“You don’t—if Seraphina finds out that I let this happen, she is never going to let me hear the end of it—”

“I will take the blame, then,” Newt says readily. “I do not require chaperones.”

“Evidently you do,” Val returns, slack-jawed at the unspeakably poor judgment he just displayed.

Newt sighs and reaches for the TV remote. “Have you any other plans tonight?”

His agent shakes her head. “Actually, if you wanna watch a few of your movies, I was thinking I should get up to speed.”

“Oh, are you my acting coach now as well?” Newt inquires, cocking his head. He pulls up Amazon Prime and starts scrolling through his films.

Val tosses him a scornful look. “Was there any doubt?”

“Not at all,” Newt replies, and hits play.

* * *

It's 2 am when Newt’s phone rings, jerking him out of a nightmare in which Meryl Streep was condemning his performance while he stood in the middle of an ice skating rink and Michael Fassbender and and James McAvoy, both wearing Halloween costumes, laughed in the stands.

“Hello?” he asks groggily.

“Newt?”

“Tina?” He sits up in bed, instantly awake. He’d kept his phone on vibrate when he went to bed around midnight, hoping that her text would eventually come. “Are you alright?”

“I'm so sorry,” she apologizes, “I know it's a lot to ask, but my car broke down and I don't have anyone else—”

“I'll be there,” Newt reassures her immediately, hopping out of bed. “What do you need?”

“Jumper cable is fine,” she answers bitterly. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” he says firmly, and finishes dressing. Although he’s generally chauffeured around, Newt has a license and the keys to a number of cars at his disposal, so he hops into a low-profile 2009 Camry and speeds over to the police officer.

“Thank you,” Tina says gratefully as he gets out, jumper cables in hand.

In no time, Tina’s car has started up, leaving Newt feeling quite accomplished. Truth be told, he still doesn’t know how to fix a flat tire, and now resolves to learn. Both the tiff with Modesty and catching a glimpse into Tina’s life have instilled within him a sudden yearning to be self-sufficient. Being self-sufficient but only _for an A-list actor_ isn’t enough.

“Thank you,” Tina repeats. She runs her thumb along the brim of her 8-point police hat, which she’s taken off and is holding in her hands. “I'm sorry.”

“It's exciting,” Newt responds, smiling. “I feel as though I've snuck out of the house and my mum is going to ground me if she finds out.”

“Well, I won't tell on you,” Tina says jokingly.

“Good.”

They stand in awkward silence for a moment. The dim orange street lights and quiet of the small back street make this oddly surreal. It’s another one of those moments where Newt doesn’t feel like a celebrity. He isn’t getting special treatment. He isn’t being held at arm’s length. At this time of night, he doesn’t even need a security guard, though he won’t push his luck.

“Well...” Newt begins after a few seconds pass.

“I’d better get home,” Tina says quickly. Then, “You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow evening, unfortunately.” He swallows nervously. “I was hoping you might let me take you out again before I leave.”

“What, this isn't romantic enough?” Tina quips.

“Shockingly, no,” he returns, then sobers. “What would you like to do?”

“I mean, a lot of things seem off limits,” she points out, and Newt has to agree.

“I will think on it,” he says.

“Surprise me, then,” Tina proposes, grinning.

“I shall do my best.”

“So... it’s a date,” Tina says.

“It’s a date,” Newt repeats.

She looks at him searchingly, seems to come to some sort of conclusion, and gives a minute nod. “Goodnight, Newt,” she says softly.

“Goodnight,” he replies. Tina gets into her car and drives off, while Newt stands on the pavement, clutching the jumper cables and trying frantically to come up with a plan.

* * *

The next morning, Newt implores Queenie to keep his schedule clear of the last-minute fittings she’d threatened him with, and offers to pay Chastity double time if she’ll take on Tina’s shift. She agrees, giving him an extremely maternal warning to be careful (he has no idea what she means), and then telling him that she hopes all goes to plan. He has no idea what she means by that, either.

Before picking Tina up, Newt drops by his new relationship coach. Val’s coffee cup today seems deceptively cheerful: it says “have a NICE day”, but when she goes to take a swig of coffee from it, there’s a hand giving the middle finger adorning the bottom. Typical.

“Pull it together,” Val says succinctly. “You'll do great. You're Newt Scamander, heartthrob and sex icon.”

“Please stop,” Newt groans. He can handle a reasonable amount of attention, but he draws the line at ‘sex icon’.

“Nah, I get it,” Val says more seriously. “You're still human. It doesn't matter how famous you are, when you like someone you like someone.”

“Indeed,” Newt agrees thoughtfully. “Why must it be so difficult?”

Val presses her lips together sympathetically. “I dunno,” she finally admits. “It’s pretty rough sometimes, going on dates with people. Like, ‘Hi, I'm famous. Do you like camera flashes? Good.’” She shakes her head. “It isn't easy or fun. But it's worth it... eventually. Somehow.”

A thought occurs to Newt. “Have you dated somebody famous?” he inquires keenly.

Val’s jaw tenses. “That's for me to know and you never to find out.”

“So yes,” Newt asserts, intrigued. “When did you date him?”

“Leave me alone,” Val snaps. All joking aside, Newt realizes he's touched a nerve, and quickly retreats.

“Have you heard from Steven?” he says to diffuse the tension.

Val launches into a brief lowdown filled with snarky asides about a few particular people whom she deems unfit to be involved in such a project. Newt nods along (he gathers fairly quickly that essentially, she has no additional information that would be relevant to him) before thanking her and heading for the door.

“Oh, and the female romantic lead will be Leta Lestrange,” Val adds offhandedly. Newt freezes.

_“What?”_

“Kidding, you fool,” Val says, cracking up. “They haven't cast her yet.”

Newt could kill her.

* * *

Everyone has decided, after much discussion in which Seraphina still tried to pretend that they weren’t discussing any person in particular, that it’s better at this point to have Tina get _into_ a car rather than continually risk Newt being seen out and about. It's hardly romantic or preferable, especially with the tinted windows, but it's safe.

“Hello,” he says when Tina joins him that evening. “These are for you.” Following his trusted agent’s advice, he did indeed buy cheap grocery store roses.

“Oh—thank you,” Tina says, seeming taken aback and then a bit shy. “I've, uh... never gotten flowers before. It's nice.”

Newt has presented his fair share of bouquets (truth be told, he's presented far more extravagant gifts on dates with women he wasn’t even interested in), so he doesn't quite know how to respond, but instead tells Tina, “You look very nice.”

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear self-consciously. Was that too far? It's true, though: she’s wearing a worn floral t-shirt, cuffed jeans, navy Keds, and a lightweight military-style jacket. Her hair, which is typically pinned back into a sleek, short ponytail for work, falls just below her chin, softening her features somehow. It's unassuming and so different from the styles of women Newt is used to being with. Then again, so is Tina in general. Different, but in a terrifically refreshing way.

“Thanks,” she says, flashing him a slightly more confident smile. Then, “How was your day?”

Newt fills her in on his upcoming events, some of which he is more excited about than others. Tina is thrilled and _proud_ when he talks about the movie, her eyes crinkling warmly at the corners and a small dimple appearing on her cheek, and that in and of itself is worth every bit of stress. Newt has never had anyone be particularly proud of him before. _He's_ certainly proud of Tina, and especially wants to know more about her and Modesty’s friend—though he’ll have to devise a way to bring it up without revealing exactly what he divulged to the fan-turned-friend.

“Your life is way more exciting than mine,” Tina remarks ruefully.

Well, _that’s_ incorrect. Newt shakes his head. “You see, nothing is spontaneous,” he explains. “It’s all so... planned. Your job is both admirable and unpredictable. Would that my own was that interesting.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tina allows skeptically. “So where exactly are we going?”

“You did instruct me to surprise you,” he points out.

“Touché,” she concedes, and changes the subject.

The rest of the drive passes by, awkwardness quickly dissipating (first dates, Val and an ever reluctant Queenie informed him, are _supposed_ to be awkward). When they arrive, Newt thanks the driver and they step out.

“Where are we?” Tina asks, confused. Before them is a fenced off expanse of land, mostly dirt and very sparse. There are a few plain, rusty, industrial-looking structures obscuring the view.

Newt smiles. “Follow me.”

Suspicious but evidently trusting him, Tina follows him until a few striped tents and a _ferris wheel_ become apparent on the horizon. “What are you—” she asks in something like alarm.

Newt had exhausted all of his options when he made frantic last-minute preparations—except one. It took a hefty combined effort, but after writing Modesty a check for her medical bills and one semester of college, and apologizing profusely for the umpteenth time, George begrudgingly forgave him. It had been a situation in which Newt’s bank account had come in very handy. He feels badly, sometimes, for exploiting his wealth in this way; still, the money is going to a good cause.

“Modesty’s father works for an amusement park ride company,” he tells Tina now. “They're setting up for a county fair tomorrow, but he got the space early. There's only a couple rides. I paid some of the vendors too.”

Tina is looking at him strangely and he can't tell if this was a hit or a miss. Was it too extravagant? Possibly, but he didn't want to sneak around just for dinner. Especially if this is the last time they're together.

“You said you used to go to that fair every year, until your parents died,” Newt explains nervously. “I thought it might... I thought perhaps you would like it.”

Tina doesn’t turn and stalk away, so that’s promising. Probably. “Thank you,” she says softly. “That’s really nice of you.”

At this point, Newt has led her to the ferris wheel, which is faded and old and offers something of a vintage feel, particularly tacking on the light jazz records playing in the background. “Come on,” he says, taking her by the hand. Then he nods to the operator and ducks beneath the overhang of the basket. They have to sit opposite one another, and given that they’re both almost six feet and the ferris wheel is very small, their knees are touching.

“This is great,” Tina says as the ride begins to move. She seems to have relaxed. Newt can’t fault her for being a bit disconcerted; he’s guessing that typical dating protocol doesn’t involve this sort of thing.

“It is,” he murmurs.

The sun casts Tina’s features in a soft golden wash, and the two of them talk quietly, pausing every so often to gaze out and admire the view. When they reach the apex of the ferris wheel, both fall silent and look out on the city. The skyline is silhouetted perfectly on the hazy horizon, all black and mystery and quavering with life. Above the soft Frank Sinatra they can make out sirens and people shouting to one another. But here, in this moment, it’s like their own little world. Painfully cliché? Yes, except as Newt is rapidly discovering, real life clichés are so much better than movie ones.

When the ride touches down, the food trucks have all been set up. “There is quite a large selection,” Newt says jokingly, gesturing to the fairground. “Er... I thought you might want traditional fair cuisine, in which case their corn dogs are excellent. Otherwise, we have catering.” He motions to the white tent erected a few yards away.

“Corn dogs aren’t very good date food, are they?” Tina asks wryly.

“Anything is a good date food, if you’ve got the right date,” Newt points out. “Cotton candy for dessert, too.”

“Okay,” Tina acquiesces. Newt grins and steps up to order.

They get greasy corn dogs, followed by fried dough later, and sit down at a picnic table while Tina tells him about her life. Newt is fascinated. She’s a phenomenally strong woman, yet doesn’t have any idea how remarkable she is. The topic of Modesty's friend comes up when Newt is describing his father's history with mental illness, though it's far too soon to explain the full story.

“That’s the thing,” Tina says thoughtfully, after explaining the circumstances which led to the young woman's attempt. “The police don’t just hunt down bad guys and arrest people. We save people too, even if it’s from themselves. One of my first days on the job, we got a call about a drug addict roaming the streets. Instead of slapping handcuffs on him, like I figured we were supposed to do, Hank talked to him.

“They were around the same age, and he told him about his fiancée and his daughter and said that it’s never too late, but he can’t keep running from us. We’re here to help, he said, and the guy did end up coming with us willingly and got into rehab a few months later. The recidivism rates are so high nowadays, it seems like a pointless task, but it’s still something.

“That’s why I love the job. It’s more than law enforcement. It’s making an actual difference, and it just...” Tina shakes her head. “I really love it,” she admits with a laugh. “Sorry, I never talk that much.”

"No, it's alright," Newt says quickly. She really is incredible. Not to mention that until now, Newt had yet to find someone who understood what it’s like to be passionate about your job. Acting runs in his blood, and law enforcement evidently runs in Tina’s. Newt figures it would be overstepping bounds to compliment her too much, however, so he nods and hopes that his smile conveys it all. “That’s amazing,” he says.

“Thanks. So what are you doing in L.A.?” Tina inquires, getting up to throw their trash away.

“Truthfully? I have no idea.”

She returns to the table and regards him in amusement. “Didn’t you spend an entire day talking about it?”

“It is, as they say, in one ear and out the other, most of the time,” Newt confesses. “I believe I have a photoshoot with _GQ,_ and some meetings with companies hankering after my reputation to sell their mediocre products. And perhaps a day or two away from everything else. I must maintain that quiet life, after all.”

“You couldn’t have a quiet day or two here?” Tina asks.

He had posed Queenie and Seraphina the very same question. “Apparently not. But there is a _glimmer_ of a possibility that I may go on Broadway in the fall, depending on when filming ends for the movie.”

“Do you prefer stage acting?”

Newt thinks. “It feels more raw, at many times, than acting for a camera,” he says contemplatively. “Having the audience’s presence gives me something to feed off of, and I do think in some ways it enhances my performance. But it can be more stressful, even to a seasoned professional—which I am not. As it is, I still get tremendously nervous that I’ll forget my lines on set.”

Before Tina can give an adequate response, the Frank Sinatra stops abruptly and a group of people suddenly enter the tent, climbing up on a makeshift stage. Newt suppresses a smile.

“Newt!” Tina says, taken aback.

“Hmm?” he asks, and casts her a devilish sidelong glance. Then he gestures to the white tent, where they sit down side by side on two chairs.

“Who are they?” Tina asks.

It’s Modesty’s a cappella group. The singers are beaming as they take the stage and immediately launch into a mixture of pop tunes and oldies, medleys and mashups and covers made that much more entertaining given their considerable talent.

“They’ve won something like twenty competitions in the past four years,” Newt informs Tina. “Modesty hopes to rejoin them for nationals.”

“Yeah? I’m not surprised, they’re _really_ good.” Tina moves slightly closer to Newt, so their thighs are touching, and when he looks over she's watching the performance with a radiant smile on her face.

The more time Newt spends with Tina, he realizes, the more he feels he may be finally getting a gauge on her personality. Prickly and perhaps a bit awkward at first, the police officer appears to have finally warmed to him. He can hardly blame her for being cautious, after everything she’s been through and her profession—plus Newt _is_ a celebrity, even if she doesn’t treat him as such. It makes seeing her smile and laugh feel like a great accomplishment.

When the performance ends, Newt signs autographs—the singers have already been sworn to secrecy—and opens up the food trucks and rides for the group to enjoy. Being very polite, none of them mob the actor or try to take pictures. Newt is infinitely grateful.

He and Tina meander around the outskirts of the fairground, chatting as the sun sets. Finally the clock strikes eight, and the two are forced to peel themselves away, say goodnight to the performers, and return to the car. Newt and the rest of his team’s meeting point is much closer to the fairground than their starting point was, so the car will drop him off at the other limo to meet up with his convoy, and then take Tina home. The weight of Newt's imminent departure seems to rest on both of their shoulders, for there's no other reason why it should suddenly feel so subdued.

They pull up to the curb (no paps in sight) only fifteen minutes later and get out to walk a few yards away from the vehicles, where they stand on the pavement and turn to face each other. Queenie rolls down the window and waves at him. He holds up a finger; _one minute._ Sighing and shaking her head, she retreats.

“Well,” Tina says.

Newt can’t help but wish they were somewhere else, anywhere else. That he did not have to leave like this, with so much left unanswered and unexplored. “Well... goodbye,” he says awkwardly. “I’ll call you. If I may.” He licks his lips anxiously, eyes flitting everywhere but Tina, and thrusts his hands into his pockets.

“Of course,” Tina says, with a watery-sounding not-quite-laugh.

“You will keep yourself busy, I’m sure,” Newt adds.

“I’m sure. I’ll miss my—” She stops mid-sentence. “Good luck with everything.”

“Newt!” Val shouts, poking her head out of the limo. Newt glances at her in dismay, then back at Tina.

“Thank you for everything,” he says sincerely. “I truly mean it.”

“You’re welcome,” Tina responds softly, in the same tone of voice she’d used when asking Newt if it had been a date. “You’d better get going.”

He gives a brief nod.

“I’ll keep an eye out for the preview,” Tina adds.

“I should very much like to know your thoughts,” Newt responds, “though I hope to see you again before then.”

Tina smiles, a genuine smile that makes Newt’s stomach flip-flop.

“Newton!” Seraphina barks.

“Right,” Newt says hurriedly, turning back to Tina. They stand there for a moment that seems to stretch on forever. Then Newt reaches forward and touches Tina’s hair gently, fingertips lingering against her temple. Not sure what just came over him, he lets his hand fall. “Goodbye,” he says one more time, and forces himself to walk away.

“Hey, Newt,” Val says, nudging him, as the limo pulls away from the curb.

He follows her line of sight and sees Tina standing on the sidewalk, tentatively touching her temple and looking a mixture of confused and happy. Then she walks back to the waiting car, a definite skip in her step.

“Looks like you might get your girl after all,” Val comments, winking at him. Seraphina and Queenie would beg to differ, if their disapproving looks are anything to go on, but Newt still feels something suspiciously like hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to those who dislike OCs. The problem is I rather ran out of viable canon characters to insert as Newt’s agent. But Val is of course not a primary character, simply necessary to drive the plot along. Unfortunately I have been unsuccessful at *not* adding a bit of intrigue to her character. I definitely do want to develop Newt’s relationship with Queenie as well, but that will have to wait until she's a bit more on board with everything else.
> 
> I still need a movie title for the Big Project! Comment with ideas.


	4. Just give me a reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The problem is, this thing we’re doing... it's not really sustainable, is it? Are either of us gonna be happy having to duck behind bushes and strategize every date?”
> 
> Newt gawks at her. “You cannot mean—”
> 
> “I like you, Newt,” Tina says softly. “I do. And I’m glad you like me. I just don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I had to throw in another OC for Newt’s female lead, because I’m not familiar with any actresses enough to do them justice. Queenie’s back on board. Bit of a filler chapter, but off Newt goes. Tina’s POV may be coming up as they’ve gone their separate ways.

_Just give me a reason_ _  
_ _Just a little bit’s enough_  
_Just a second we’re not broken, just bent_

**~*~**

The plane ride is uneventful, mostly consisting of Seraphina texting her new boyfriend, Queenie frenetically jotting things down in her planner and firing off emails at a frightening speed, and Val watching Newt’s movies and laughing at him—who, for his part, attempts to sleep but only becomes more stressed about the upcoming movie, impending meetings, and his departure from Tina.

As expected, paps are waiting diligently when they touch down. Given that it would seem suspect if Newt avoided the media too much, he puts up with the blinding trek through the airport and slips with immense relief into the awaiting limo to go to another hotel. As is the case with Manhattan, Newt does own property in the city, but he prefers a hotel with his surrogate family to an empty apartment.

In the next couple weeks, Newt films a commercial and attends meeting after meeting about partnerships. He really isn’t interested—frankly, he’d rather laze around and read books on zoology—but given that his life is pretty much run by teams of people, it's the least he can do.

He and Leta come head to head again briefly, when they happen to be dining at the same restaurant. _That’s_ a fiasco quickly smoothed over by their teams (Seraphina and Leta’s publicist definitely have something against one another now). Newt puts up with pained polite conversation with Leta, and is incredibly grateful when her date arrives and he can make a hasty escape.

Casting directors for the movie get in touch about auditions a week into Newt’s stay and ask if he would be willing to audition with potential candidates for his love interest. He obliges, and spends three solid days running the same scenes in a hotel room with random women. Amanda Seyfried, Anne Hathaway, Jennifer Lawrence, and Emily McNeale all make the final cut; Newt is exhausted by the time callbacks are over. In the end, Emily gets chosen as the star lead.

Theseus Fido, football quarterback-turned-actor, is cast as Newt’s brother shortly thereafter. They’ve crossed paths before, but never exchanged more than polite greetings.

“Good to meet you,” Theseus says cordially, giving Newt a firm handshake at their first readthrough.

“You as well,” Newt replies.

Their chemistry is instant; even the actors themselves are surprised. Theseus, unlike Newt, grew up with several siblings, and seems to fall naturally into his brotherly role. Newt isn't entirely sure what part _he_ plays in the immediate camaraderie, but he always did feel rather lonely growing up surrounded by famous actors and often not terribly emotionally supportive people organizing his entire life.

On the first official day of rehearsal, the two end up having a heart to heart long after everyone else has left, sharing a drink and losing track of time. Their deep conversation covers everything from childhood woes to their aspirations and career goals. Newt, implicitly trusting his new costar, confides in Theseus about Tina; Theseus reveals that he has his own eyes set on Mary Hægeland, a little-known Norwegian singer-songwriter to whom Anna Kendrick had introduced him in the fall.

“It is odd, isn't it, being a celebrity,” Theseus remarks. Although his fame is not at the level of Newt’s, he’s certainly high in the ranks of stardom. “You have women throwing themselves at you every which way, yet there always seems to be that one person you can't stop thinking about. And they're seldom interested, at that,” Theseus adds with a rueful laugh. “At least Mary and I have been talking. I've offered to join her at a cafe downtown, as she performs there, but...” He stares down at his hands.

“You can't be seen,” Newt asserts.

Theseus nods, looking as harried as Newt often feels. “It's far too public.”

“It is the same with Tina,” Newt sincerely commiserates. “It is... significantly less than ideal.”

“The best of luck to the both of us, then,” Theseus says, raising his beer bottle ceremoniously. He takes a swig, then claps Newt on the back and gets to his feet. “My manager will kill me if I don't get some sleep.” It would seem rather lame that his manager should be bossing a grown man around like a nagging mother if Newt didn't wholeheartedly understand. Though it depends on the star, more often than not, clients eventually develop similar relationships with their teams.

Newt stands as well. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Indeed,” Theseus replies, and they part ways.

Through this entire whirlwind, Newt hasn't had a moment to even attempt to get in touch with Tina.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he hasn't had the time to pluck up the courage to do so.

Either way, his primary concern is that his attention will be somehow unwelcome. Theseus had confessed to the same natural concern—romantic or not, nobody particularly likes the feeling of bothering someone—but stated that had he not taken initiative with Mary and expressed his interest, she would have very likely gone on her merry way. Then again, Theseus could much more aptly be described as a “sex icon”: his body (this entire preoccupation with celebrities’ bodies forever bewilders and frustrates Newt) is often compared to Zac Efron and Channing Tatum, and he exudes a certain confidence. Newt isn't exactly _not_ confident, but he isn't loud and he doesn't fill the room with his presence. Nor is he the most experienced or skilled with the dating game. And so he pushes Tina to the back of his mind, secretly hoping _she_ might reach out to him, and focuses on filming.

Newt goes out with Theseus and Emily after their first day of screen tests together. Although this is usually how movies go—the warmth, the jokes, the friendship, until the last take ends and they part ways until the next red carpet event—Newt is cautiously optimistic that this feels different, that he might have actually connected with the two. Regardless, it's certainly good for them to develop a relationship given that their characters are the glue holding the entire story together. Emily is pleasant, recently engaged to Daveed Diggs, well-known and talented (in fact, Newt had rather been hoping to work with her at some point).

Magically, Newt gets a three-day break before he has to head to the banquet. After much coercing, Queenie acquiesces and gives him the green light to fly back to Manhattan, with the promise of meeting back with the others in L.A. in time for the event.

He decides to surprise Tina, though he's a bit unsure as to how she might respond. Chastity, when he tracks down her number, tells him that he’d better get his ass down to the station because some other police trainee has been wooing ‘his girl’. Newt panics slightly, demanding to know more, and she tells him she's just kidding, but that he passed the test splendidly.

Tina may feel as though she has no one, but there are proving to be a number of people who staunchly support and look out for her. They have good reason to; Newt actually appreciates the fact that they treat him much as though he’s a sketchy, tattooed, untrustworthy teenage boy trying to date an incredibly overprotective father’s daughter. And so, timing it perfectly so that it’s the end of her shift, the second he’s given permission to leave, Newt hops on a private jet to New York and shows up at the police station. Chastity winks at him and calls, “Hey, Teen? Someone’s here for you!”

Newt rubs his palms on his pant legs, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He hadn’t actually told Tina that he’d be arriving. Tina emerges, still in uniform, and freezes when she sees him.

“Hi,” she says breathlessly.

“Hello,” Newt responds.

Chastity is looking between the two of them, grinning.

“Did you miss me?” he quips.

Tina tilts her head, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Mm, maybe,” she replies.

“She’s been miserable since you’ve left,” Chastity informs him in a stage whisper.

“Chastity!” Tina chastises her, turning pink.

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you two to it. Not like it’s my police station or anything.” Chastity raises her hands in surrender, winks at Newt again, and disappears into the back room.

“How was LA?” Tina inquires.

“Rather dull,” he says.

She arches an eyebrow. “I think the tabloids would beg to differ.”

“I thought you didn't read such garbage!” Newt says in mock horror.

“I dunno, when you’re da—when you know a celebrity, it's hard to ignore their face plastered all over the newsstands.”

“Touché,” Newt says. “I did connect with Theseus Fido and Emily McNeale,” he confesses. “So far, I like them very much.”

“Don't you get along with everyone?”

He shakes his head. “I am annoying, remember? It is all a charade.”

“Oh, of course,” Tina responds, grinning.

“How have you been?” he asks. Tina opens her mouth to reply when a young woman enters, looking for a lost wallet, sees Newt, and gasps. “Oh, bugger,” Newt mutters as her hands come up to cover her gaping mouth.

“Newt—it’s—but you're in LA—”

“Evidently not,” Tina says a bit sharply. Newt is delighted.

“Please don't tell anyone that I'm here,” he requests of the girl.

“Okay, okay,” she says, and oh _no_ is she crying? Chastity re-emerges, having heard the commotion.

“Can I help you?”

“I was—my wallet—but Newt—”

“Would you like a picture?” Newt offers resignedly. Thankfully she doesn't accost him, and calms slightly now that she's seen that he's only human. The wallet is recovered, the young woman sent on her way, and now Newt suggests to Tina that they get out of here.

“Sure,” Tina agrees. “Where to?”

He really would like to invite her to his hotel room or apartment, purely for the privacy, but that carries with it all sorts of implications he does not want made at this point in time. Not to mention what would happen if they were spotted. So they chance going back to the restaurant where they first ate. “Come on,” Newt says, automatically taking her by the hand, and tugs her in the direction of the back exit.

Chastity waggles an eyebrow at him. “Tell me if you see anything suspicious!” she calls. Tina waves dismissively at her.

Once they’re safely in the back room, Newt and Tina breathe twin sighs of relief. “That was nerve wracking,” Tina comments lightly.

“What could possibly be nerve wracking about sneaking around Manhattan, terrified of paparazzi and being violently mobbed by screaming young women?” Newt asks.

“Nothing,” Tina replies, grinning. “It’s, uh, good to see you again.”

“Ditto.” They fall silent for a moment. Dating really shouldn’t be this emotionally exhausting, at least in terms of being unable to get from point A to B without immense stress.

“Some blogger wrote a three page essay about meeting you,” Tina informs him presently. “Apparently you smell like her ex-boyfriend, but ‘in the best way possible’. She also died several times during your meeting.”

“Please don’t,” Newt begs, but Tina takes out her phone and watches in amusement as he slides down in his chair, groaning.

“‘...then he said ‘hi, I’m Newt, would you like a hug?’ and I was like, ‘I WOULD BUT I THINK I’M DEAD’ and he hugged me and I seriously considered asking someone to call an ambulance because I legit didn’t think I was going to make it and we took a picture and he smells _so good_ even though it reminded me of my ex but in the best way possible and then he smiled at me and we got to chat a little about my future career goals and stuff and I swear to GOD I almost called my mom and asked her to start planning my funeral arrangements right there because I literally _died._ Right there, I died.’ _”_ Tina glances up and grins at a horrified Newt. “You seem to make quite the impression on your fans.”

“They always talk about dying,” Newt says hopelessly. He tries to stay off of social media, and is mostly successful, but his friends and family still enjoy sending him particularly cringe-worthy posts on a daily basis.

Tina seems much more relaxed this time around. Even though it’s probably because the weather is finally warming up, Newt dares to hope that part of it has to do with him. It's been far too long since he experienced the excitement of having someone new in his life, someone to mix up his routine a bit, and despite the pressure of the movie and impending banquet he feels himself relax around Tina as well, and has stopped worrying quite so much about everything he says.

After lunch they return to the station to find that another one of Tina’s colleagues has offered up his time so that Tina can spend the next 48 hours with Newt. “They are very kind to you, you know,” Newt comments to Tina after they’ve been waved off.

“They just want to see me actually with a guy for once,” Tina says dismissively.

“No, they want to see you happy,” Newt corrects her. She looks over at him, then presses her lips together as though suppressing a smile.

“I guess. I can be a little... jaded.”

Newt shrugs. “So can we all. But they truly care about you.”

“I don’t really know why,” Tina admits.

“You save lives. Does it require more explanation?”

“So does every other cop out there,” Tina points out.

“Yes, but _you’re_ pretty.” It slips out before Newt can stop it, but she seems to take it in stride and smiles for real this time.

“Sure,” she concedes, and moves a little closer to him.

Paparazzi is swarming around the city this time of year. Newt swears, it’s as though all the celebrities have come out of hibernation in the summer, because it would seem that the number of intrusive photographers triples during the warmer months. He still hates it, and he can tell that Tina does too. Neither of them directly address it again, because really, what is there to say? He’s taking every precaution, which includes obeying Queenie and Seraphina and allowing himself to be seen going about his day as a normal human being would. Daveed doesn’t know about Tina—Newt had politely requested that Emily keep that under wraps—but obliges happily when Newt asks if he could take him out to lunch. This inevitably sparks headlines about whether Newt may soon be joining the cast of _Hamilton._

“Sorry,” Newt apologizes when paparazzi start following Daveed around.

The time when Newt is _not_ throwing himself before cameras to allay suspicions is spent, as planned, with Tina. They manage to get quite good at sneaking around, hopping into cars unnoticed, and ducking behind buildings. Newt has now compiled a list of establishments willing to keep their tentative relationship on the QT and open up inconspicuous back rooms for the couple. Queenie still asks that each restaurant sign waivers swearing them to secrecy.

However, the banquet still hangs above Newt’s head. Leta keeps texting him photographs of her dress, her makeup, her hair—just to annoy him, he’s sure of it.

 

> _what are you even doing there???_
> 
> Sod off.
> 
> Please.
> 
> _is there a girl??? is it the cop?_
> 
> Leave me alone. I will block your number.
> 
> _we need to practice_
> 
> Practice what?
> 
> _looking like a couple_
> 
> That is entirely unnecessary. Are pictures not enough?
> 
> _no_
> 
> _are you really that incompetent???_
> 
> I am fine at dating, thank you.
> 
> _so it IS a girl._
> 
> Goodbye, Leta.

He has to tell Tina, before she sees pictures and questions him. But he has no idea how to. His second-to-last day, they have dinner together at Mary’s restaurant, and it’s as good a time as any.

“I, erm... there's a benefit banquet coming up. Friday,” Newt says, gingerly putting down his fork.

Tina glances up. “Yeah?”

“It's back in L.A.”

“Okay?” She looks confused.

Newt swallows. “I’m—I'm going with Leta, unfortunately.”

Tina stops chewing. “Oh,” she says shortly.

“It means nothing, of course,” he stammers, “but I thought I might give you a warning, before you see photographs and hear rumors about us.”

“I thought you didn't like her.”

“I don't,” Newt clarifies quickly.

Tina frowns. “Then why are you going to an event with her?”

“I... have to.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You have to date people you don't want to date?”

Newt starts getting flustered. It isn’t like that. It’s his team forcing him to do ridiculous things for publicity and vague rules of the business, and unfortunately these things are impossible to avoid. “N-no, no, we aren't dating, it just—I need a date, and—and we’re both single—” He realizes exactly what he just said and balks. “Not single, per se, but in the eyes of the media... it is simply how these things work,” he tries desperately to explain. “You wouldn't under—”

“Right,” Tina says, and her eyes have gone completely cold. _HELP,_ Newt thinks wildly. “I wouldn't understand, would I.”

“Tina—”

“No, you're a celebrity, you _should_ date people your publicist tells you to date.”

“We aren't dating,” Newt insists, heart thumping furiously because this is going all wrong. “It's just to go to the banquet.”

Tina gives a harsh, grating laugh. “And what do you think the newspapers will say? They're just gonna say oh, Newt went to this thing with Leta, but even though they've been rumored to date on and off, it’s _definitely_ platonic?”

“I want to date you—” But before Newt can continue, Tina’s phone rings. It’s an emergency. One of her colleagues’ daughter has been taken to the hospital and he can’t make it to his shift.

“I have to go,” Tina says quickly, grabbing her things. “Good luck at the banquet.” With that, she's gone, leaving Newt sitting alone at an empty table, surrounded by empty chairs, and wondering how on earth he got himself into this mess.

* * *

Newt calls Tina. He probably shouldn't, but he does. It goes straight to voicemail.

So he FaceTimes Queenie, apologizing profusely for interrupting. She knows that he wouldn’t do so if it wasn’t something serious, so she hangs up with Jacob and regards her client in concern. “You okay, honey?” she asks, brow furrowed.

“I know you’ll _strangle_ me, but—”

Queenie shakes her head. “It’s fine, Newt. Really.”

“You mean you app—”

“Approve? No, not really. I’m real nervous about this. But if there’s anything I learned from Jacob, there ain’t no use fighting it if two people wanna be together.”

“Well, it may not be so mutual,” Newt warns her, and explains what happened.

Queenie looks downright stormy when he finishes. “You really told her she wouldn’t understand?”

Newt messed up and he knows it. Real life, which Tina has experienced, isn't like stardom. He could have, obviously _should_ have, broken the news differently. “She didn't understand. Why I would do anything with anyone I don't like.”

Queenie sighs and walks into her kitchen, props her phone up against the toaster and pours a glass of water, then leans forward, elbows resting on the counter. “I don’t really understand, either.”

Newt blinks, taken aback. “You know the business,” he argues. “You and Seraphina _told_ me to do this.”

Queenie shrugs and takes a sip of water. “Does anyone really ever know the business?”

“I should hope you do, you’re my manager,” Newt points out. She makes a face at him, but affectionately so, and chews on her lip thoughtfully for a moment.

“You can’t go public with her, honey. You know that.”

“Of course.”

“Just say you’re sorry, you’re an idiot—’cause you and me both know you _are—_ and Leta means nothing.”

“I don’t suppose—”

Queenie immediately shakes her head. Back in California, she puts the glass down and carries her phone into the living room, where she sits on the couch and clips her now shoulder length wavy blond hair out of her face. “You have to go with Leta, Newt.”

“Why?”

“There’s no one else. No one else _famous._ I’d say take Emily, but she just got engaged, and she isn’t going.”

“I...” Newt knows the argument is moot at this point. Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to assemble his thoughts. “I will apologize,” he says. “If she would only talk to me.”

“When’s her shift over?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Go to the station,” Queenie suggests.

“Is that not a bit stalker-ish?”

“You’re Newt Scamander,” she says teasingly. “Thought you could get away with anything.”

“If only.”

“Listen, honey,” Queenie says seriously. “If you really mean it with this police officer—Tina—you know you’re in for a whole lotta trouble, right? Maybe not now, but at some point you’re gonna have to come clean to the press. Tina may not want that. Sounds like she doesn’t.”

“But—”

“It's exhausting, dating at your level of fame. Whether you like it or not, the camera’s always gonna be on you. You know what Harry Styles said about his relationship with Taylor? It was impossible to have a normal date—their combined fame was just too much. And they're not the only stars who’ve talked about how hard the dating scene is, when you're famous. It takes a toll, trying to keep it a secret.”

Newt falls silent, considering this.

“I'm sorry, I don't wanna scare you, but it's the truth.” Queenie hesitates. “Start by talking to her. Just see how things go.”

He will. “Thank you, Queenie,” Newt says sincerely.

She beams. “Anytime, sweetie.”

“Bye.”

“Love you,” his manager says cheerfully, and ends the call.

* * *

Newt waits until the next morning to head over to the police station. Tina, he knows, had been working an 8 pm-6 am shift, and he wants to give her a chance to rest, but he also wants to smooth this over as soon as possible. Chastity takes one look at Newt, nods soberly, and goes into the back to get Tina.

“Hello,” Newt says when she walks in. Chastity lurks behind.  

“Hi,” Tina responds warily, and places her hat on the counter.

“I'm sor—” Newt starts when, to his utmost surprise, Tina reaches over and hugs him.

“I'm sorry I freaked out a little back there,” she says ruefully. “I guess I thought... I don't know what I thought, really.”

“To be clear, I do not want to date anyone but you,” Newt states, deciding that honesty is the best policy here. “I have not really wanted to date anybody in general, until I met you.” He's a little scared to look Tina in the eye, but if there's ever a time to grow a pair at nearly 30 years old, it's now. “I only meant that to the press, I _am_ single.”

“I understand.” Newt’s shoulders relax slightly in relief. But then Tina says possibly the worst thing she could ever say. “The problem is, this thing we’re doing... it's not really sustainable, is it? Are either of us gonna be happy having to duck behind bushes and strategize every date?”

Newt gawks at her. “You cannot mean—”

“I like you, Newt,” Tina says softly. “I do. And I’m glad you like me. I just don't know. And anyway, for what it's worth, I still think it's absurd that you ‘have’ to do anything.”

“That makes two of us,” Newt says wryly.

“So why don’t you _stop?”_ Tina asks in frustration. “Why do you do it if you don’t want to?”

“I have an image, and I need to maintain it,” Newt struggles.

Tina shakes her head. “You can’t date a cop, then. You just can’t. I like you, but I... well, to be honest, I don’t want anything to _do_ with your world.”

Therein lies the issue. If they are ever to go public, Tina will be dragged into a world she does not want to be in. If they are _never_ go to public, then there is no point because Newt’s level of fame makes it impossible to, as she pointed out, sustain any sort of relationship. “Let me take you out one more time. I leave tomorrow,” Newt says.

“I can do dinner tonight,” Tina allows.

Newt could use the day to reflect anyway. He needs to run through his lines, he needs to drop by the tailor’s, and he needs to, unfortunately, discuss Friday with Leta. “I will send a car,” he offers.

Tina gives a little nod and puts her hat back on. “Alright. I really am sorry.”

Newt shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. It is what it is.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause in which it’s unclear who should walk away first. Then Tina checks her phone, sighs, and retreats into the back room to get her things and leave. Chastity casts Newt a pitying look which he does not appreciate one bit, before he replaces his mirrored sunglasses and prepares to step back into the real world.

* * *

Newt’s flight gets pushed back: Now he has to leave the evening of his and Tina’s potentially final date. They act normal at dinner, but it isn't normal. None of this is normal. No matter how easily they laugh or how much they talk, this is proving to be—on paper—yet another failed fling for Newt Scamander. Except this is, or was, never just a “fling”.

Newt waits as long as possible before they have to say farewell. Finally he can dawdle no longer and arranges for the limo to pick him up on an inconspicuous back street. Tina follows him out of the car quietly, then stands in front of him on the sidewalk.

“Goodbye,” Newt says softly, and reaches out to run his thumb across her cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

After a beat of hesitation Tina leans over and wraps her arms around his neck. He grips her back, wishing more than anything that he could stay and try to work this out. “Goodbye,” she murmurs, before stepping away.

For a moment, they only look at one another, and even though this seems to (ridiculously, absurdly) mimic the scene he’s acted out in countless films, real life is different. So he steps back as well, and gives an awkward wave.

Then Tina speaks up nervously. “Listen, Newt, I... I wanted to thank you.”

He blinks, surprised. “What on earth for?”

“It’s been nice getting to know you. I haven’t, you know, really _dated_ before. You’re a talented man and I’m sure you’ll—”

“Stop,” Newt says in alarm, because he knows the cliché breakup statement Tina is about to deliver. He’s not going to make another woman very happy. He doesn’t _want_ to make another woman very happy. And this isn’t a breakup. This is an uncertain goodbye. At the very least, it leaves things up in the air.

Tina chews on her lip nervously, then nods. “Sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize.”

She doesn't say anything. The driver honks impatiently: Newt is already running late, and at this rate he’s going to miss his flight. Much as he likes Tina, he can’t afford that.

“Er... goodbye,” he says again, and gets into the limo. He doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any qualms I had about depicting 30-year-olds as somewhat immature have been sufficiently quelled after I recently experienced four separate run-ins with unrelated people age 27-34, in which they proved to be as emotionally and socially ept as I was at age 15.
> 
> Is this fic getting a bit ridiculous? I feel like it is.


	5. You just feel used

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weeks after the banquet are filled with more pre-production. Seraphina has begrudgingly forgiven Newt for his actions and admitted to being a little bit tense. The dating rumors are dismissed relatively quickly, though they certainly leave a significant impression on Tumblr and Twitter, where the hashtag #netaforever runs rampant. There is still no word from Tina.

_And they tell you that you’re lucky_ _  
_ _But you’re so confused_ _  
_ _‘Cause you don’t feel pretty_  
_You just feel used_

**~*~**

Queenie seems to have experienced a change of heart when Newt returns. She asks with genuine concern and interest how his time with Tina was; he tells her that things were straightened out, but that he really isn’t sure what’s going to happen now.

Seraphina has yet to achieve the same enlightenment: she regards Newt with mingled fondness, frosty disappointment, and disapproval. Disapproval irregardless, the fact still remains that they only have a day to get ready, so the A-list actor and his team hits the ground running.

“Meryl is speaking,” Queenie informs Newt the following morning, passing over the schedule. “Leta will meet us at six tomorrow for final touch ups.”

“Is there an after party?” Newt asks dolefully.

Seraphina casts him an imperious look. “Yes, and you are going.”

“No,” Newt states matter-of-factly.

“Benedict will be there,” Queenie coaxes him. “And Eddie...”

“And they will talk about their children the entire time, and I will sit there with absolutely nothing to contribute,” Newt points out.

“Enough,” his publicist cuts in. “Make an appearance at the after party. That is all we are asking of you.”

Val shoots him a warning glare and mouths, _Just say yes._

“Very well,” Newt acquiesces, and checks his phone. It’s foolish, he knows, to think that Tina might immediately reach out to him, particularly after their arguably disastrous farewell.

“Let it go, honey,” Queenie says softly, tugging the phone from his hands and placing it gingerly on the bedside table.

Seraphina looks pained but only purses her lips and says nothing. Newt shakes himself out of this fog, apologizing, “Sorry. I will let it go.”

Based on the expression on Queenie and Val’s faces, they don’t believe him. Then again, neither does he. But the fact of the matter remains that he is still hung up on Tina, and unfortunately, no one can do anything about it.

* * *

Leta wears an outrageous black gown with a mixture of textures that _should_ be illegal. Newt isn't even really sure what he's wearing, except that he matches his ill-advised date.

They pose together, exchanging acerbic remarks through clenched teeth, before finding their seats. Eddie’s come down with the flu, but Benedict and Sophie are seated nearby, as well as Blake and Ryan, so all things considered Newt has enough lifelines to cling to the second he can stop touching Leta. He swears his hand has broken out into a rash simply from coming into contact with her skin.

But as the evening progresses, Newt finds himself hating her slightly less. It's different when it's just the two of them in conversation and she isn't trying to impress anybody: she tones down her attitude, stops with the fake smiles, and talks like a borderline intelligent person. Even when they get into discussions with the other couples at their table, which Newt had been dreading, his discomfort starts to slip away.

Stardom is exhausting and restrictive, yes. But, as Newt is currently being reminded, it can also be rewarding and exciting. Surrounded by a gorgeous venue, inspirational speakers, friends, and good food, Newt relaxes slightly. He even forgets for the moment that everything went pear-shaped with Tina.

His appearance at the after party turns into a lengthy evening filled with laughter and meeting new people. He even says hello when someone decides to do an Instagram livestream, but the phone nearly breaks with the number of people frantically typing messages to him, so he says a sheepish goodbye and finds Leta again.

“Wasn't it lovely?” Queenie asks him later.

“It was alright,” he admits, unable to hide his smile.

“You and Leta seemed to have settled your differences,” Queenie comments. “You looked pretty happy together.”

He falters. “Not _happy,_ per se, but... it was remarkably more enjoyable than I previously expected.”

“You _belong_ in the business, Newt,” Queenie says more seriously. “You may be quiet or awkward or whatever the press wants to call it, but you know you're happy here.”

He thinks of Tina. “Not with everything.”

Queenie sighs, then reaches over and takes his hand. “My point is, honey, you got a lot ahead of you and a lot riding on this film. You're busy. You ain't got time for girls anyway.”

“Really now?” Seraphina asks, striding into the room and throwing her phone onto the table between Newt and Queenie. “Good lord, Newton, could you not have shown more restraint?”

Newt blanches as he sees the screen. He didn't mean to be gazing at his date like that. At all. He and Leta are quite literally frenemies. But the photographers at the banquet somehow caught him at the exact moment where he happened to be laughing at a joke that Ben made outside of the frame and had turned to look at Leta. That, combined with the red carpet pictures where—as is expected when posing with a date, platonic or not—he has his arm around her waist, and the screenshots rolling in of the moment he and Leta waved at the livestream in tandem, add up to the massive headline: 

> _Newt and Leta: Back together again? #neta shippers rejoice as Newt Scamander and Leta Lestrange are spotted cozying up at the—_

“Stop!” Newt says in horror, throwing the phone back at his publicist.

“I gave you very explicit instructions,” Seraphina says furiously. “You were to remain neutral. Smile for the pictures, then go your separate ways.”

“I—” Newt starts, but his publicist plows on.

“We decided, if you recall, that you would make an _appearance_ at the after party—which might I add, _you_ decided to do yourself! How you could do this without running it by me first—”

Anger starts to bubble up. “Running _what_ by you?” Newt retorts. “Becoming friends with someone I despise, for five hours?”

“This!” Seraphina shoves the article in Newt’s face. “And now I am getting flooded with requests for comment—”

“How am I supposed to win?” Newt demands loudly. Queenie looks pale as her eyes dart between the two. “How can I possibly do anything of my own accord without it somehow being a publicity stunt?”

“If you did not persistently complain about and rail against Leta, then this would be a very different situation! We could have established your joint image as good friends, posted Instagram photos and sent you to spend time together in public, and this would be far more easily refuted! But going from frosty silence to suddenly ‘cozying up’ at a star-studded benefit banquet—what am I supposed to do about it, as your publicist?”

“Why must there be a ‘joint image’ at all?” Newt fires back.

“This is the business!” Seraphina cries.

“Then I abhor it!”

“If you cannot refrain from throwing these tantrums whenever I make a perfectly reasonable and strategically wise request—”

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Val pokes her head into the room. “I was just wondering if y'all wanted to borrow a sound machine, my friend’s got one to drown out the sound of her twin two-year-olds screaming during nap time and I thought it’d be appropriate for this sort of situation.” She sits down on the table, crossing her legs and casually pulling her hair into a ponytail. “I don't think anyone within a mile radius _didn't_ catch every word of the conversation, but anyone wanna bring me up to speed?”

“It matters not,” Seraphina says coldly. She casts Newt one last, heavily disappointed glare before getting up and slamming the door on her way out.

* * *

The day of Newt’s banquet finds Tina in an inexplicably bad mood. After her shift, she sits down in the empty break room, taking deep breaths to combat the sudden surge of emotion that’s just overcome her.

_Why?_

She rests her elbows on the table and buries her face in her hands. This was a bad idea. This whole thing. She should’ve stopped it when she had a chance, but she _had_ to go and date Newt—for what, cumulatively less than a week?—and reject him, and now here she is, beating herself up for it.

But it doesn't work. There are too many risks involved. It was the right thing, to let him go.

Right?

“Hey,” Chastity says, walking into the room, “I heard Newt went to the ban—”

“Don't talk to me about it,” Tina says hardly. Chastity recoils.

“I thought you two were—”

“Well, we aren’t.”

“What happened?”

 _I happened._ “It was stupid,” Tina says, glaring down at the table. She recounts everything that transpired.

“You have a point, you know,” Chastity says quietly. “There’s a reason stars only date other stars.”

“But I like him,” Tina says helplessly. It had taken Newt walking away from her to go to this stupid benefit banquet with stupid Leta Lestrange for it to really hit her.

Chastity sighs. “But you don’t want to be dragged into fame. And—not to be selfish—it would majorly impact the NYPD if you did go public. The amount of attention you’d draw, you might not be able to be on the force anymore. And you know Modesty got death threats. If you and Newt were official...”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tina says tightly. Chastity is right; she always is.

“Okay,” Chastity replies, and after a moment of hesitation reaches over and pats Tina’s hand. “For what it’s worth, he really likes you too.”

“Not anymore,” Tina says bitterly.

“Oh, shut up,” Chastity scoffs. Then she grabs her hat and stands. “Give him a call if you like him that much. Cut the poor guy some slack.”

Tina is officially stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Thanks,” she says to Chastity, and takes another sip of cold coffee.

* * *

Newt calls Leta frantically. Reverting back to her old horrible self, she laughs at him and says he needs to get a sense of humor.

What's worse is the fact that Tina will inevitably see the headlines. Then again, she's far too smart to buy into them. Or maybe she doesn't even care at this point. Either way, Newt decides definitively that there's no use trying to reach out to her, because if she hadn't written him off already, chances are high that she will now.

“That's why you need to talk to her, to clarify,” Queenie implores him. Despite not objectively approving of this relationship, feelings have won out in the end and as a result a very reluctant Queenie has finally gotten on board with regards to the Tina situation.

Newt shakes his head. “If I do, she may think I am just selfishly trying to have the best of both worlds, so to speak.”

“But if she knows that you don't like Leta at _all—”_

“She already knows. The world knew.”

“I love you, hon, but that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You can't make assumptions like that about other people.”

“I don't want to bother her.”

“She likes you, for Pete’s sake!” Queenie’s voice has gone shrill and frustrated. “Newt, you gotta pick a side. Either you're in or you're out, but it isn't fair to anyone if you play games like this.”

“I'm not playing games,” Newt maintains. His manager gazes hopelessly at him. She opens and closes her mouth as though to say something, but finally presses her lips together and falls silent.

* * *

On Tina’s end, things go from bad to worse when the headlines hit. Newt still hasn't tried to talk to her and the reasons for it are becoming extremely apparent. He's busy working on his movie, and, oh, he's also dating Leta again.

She probably shouldn't be upset. And she _knows_ the media exaggerates. But how is it _not_ supposed to get to her? Honestly, how in the world...

“Ready?” Hank asks from the doorway.

Tina shakes herself out of it and stands up. “Yeah, sorry.” He raises an eyebrow and goes to toss her the keys, but she says in a subdued voice, “You drive.”

“Whoa there. Are you okay?” he asks, stopping her before she can brush past him.

“No,” she answers truthfully after a moment of thought. Then she shrugs and opens the cruiser door. Hank doesn't seem to know what to say.

They have to respond to a domestic disturbance halfway through the shift; Tina walks into the girl’s room, sees posters of Newt’s face plastered all over the walls, and walks out.

“You do it,” she says to Hank quietly, and takes over interviewing the father.

* * *

The weeks after the banquet are filled with more pre-production. Seraphina has begrudgingly forgiven Newt for his actions and admitted to being a little bit tense. The dating rumors are dismissed relatively quickly, though they certainly leave a significant impression on Tumblr and Twitter, where the hashtag #netaforever runs rampant. There is still no word from Tina.

Newt starts going to the gym, because he has quite a lot of stress to take out on the treadmill. Seraphina is pleased, hopeful that he might strike up a partnership with Nike, but Newt refuses immediately. He needs some semblance of a normal life now—he needs to do something to do without the world having an ulterior motive. Of course paparazzi track him down, though, so there goes _that_ fantasy.

Newt doesn’t reserve the right at this point to call Tina, or to go visit her unannounced, but he also doesn’t want her to see him in the city and assume he’s rejecting her, so he declines invitations to go to Manhattan during the week before filming recommences.

“You should talk to her,” Emily urges him over a hastily consumed catered lunch between scenes. It’s now late May, about two months since he and Tina first met.

Newt shakes his head. “The ball is in her court, it would seem.”

“No,” Emily argues, “it’s in both of your courts. Talk to her.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just try to be fr—”

Newt begins to lose patience. “I cannot just try to be friends with her.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”

He realizes how it sounded. “Oh—not like that, not that I will not engage with her unless she is dating me—”

“Sure,” Emily says, tossing her napkin in the trash, and gestures to the set. “Back to the grind.”

* * *

He’s distracted and everyone can tell. When Theseus also blusters into rehearsal in a terrible mood because of a tiff he and Mary had, Emily has reached her limit. She excuses herself primly to the others and drags both men to the side by their sleeves.

“You’re an _actor,_ for _god’s_ sake,” she hisses at Newt. “You never let this stuff get to you.”

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Newt apologizes. “It’s—”

“Text her if you miss her so much! Just... stop letting it affect your performance. _Please.”_

Newt struggles to explain why he can’t just text her. “I—”

“And you,” Emily turns on Theseus, “at least you’ve got your girl, which is more than Newt can say.”

“I am sorry—” Theseus starts.

“Both of you need to stop.”

“Have you been spending time with Val, by any chance?” Newt inquires, because Emily is starting to act suspiciously like his agent.

“No,” she replies, glowering at him slightly. “Look, Newt. We have this weekend off. After that, we’re filming in Boston for a month. Come with me—Daveed has a spare room and you don’t exactly take up a lot of space.”

“If Tina finds out that I am avoiding her...”

Emily looks annoyed. “Isn’t that what she wanted?”

Newt frowns. “I couldn’t say.”

“Just think about it,” Emily concludes. “Now, if the two of you are done moping around about girls, we have a movie to make.”

* * *

After a very long internal battle, Newt declines Emily’s invitation. He spends the weekend off walking around the city alone—which, frankly, he doesn’t mind—and resigns himself to the photographers following him. It clears his head a bit, at least.

At the beginning of June, his phone vibrates during a take.

“Sorry, so sorry,” Newt says hurriedly, fishing it out of his pocket. Everyone on set laughs at him. When he goes to turn it off, his heart skips a beat. _Tina._ “Sorry,” he repeats, and swipes open to see the message.

It’s a photo of his favorite zoologist speaking at a local venue in Manhattan, followed by a photograph of the zoologist’s signed book.

> _Thought of you._

Newt smiles despite himself and texts back, 

> How did you come to be so lucky?
> 
> _I have connections._
> 
> I did not know you were such a fan of his work.
> 
> _I’m not. You are. Right?_
> 
> What do you mean?
> 
> _I got the copy for you. I’ll give it to you next time you’re around._

Newt is flooded with relief. She _does_ want to see him again, then. He thinks for a moment, then replies,

> I look forward to it.

“Are you serious?” Newt glances up to see his agent marching over to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in alarm.

“Making sure my clients don’t do ridiculous things like have a long texting conversation in the middle of a take,” she snaps.

“Oh, it’s Tina,” Emily interrupts. “Give him a break.”

“Really?” Val asks.

“Erm... yes,” Newt replies, self conscious given the cameras and mics surrounding him and recording this entire interaction.

“Happy for you, pal,” Val says with a genuine smile. Then she points a finger at him. “No phones.”

“I was only turning it—”

She wrestles it out of his hands, shoves it into her purse, and, with a huff of disapproval, stalks off set. “You're welcome!” she calls to the director.

“I like her,” Emily says, impressed.

Newt groans.

* * *

It had taken everything in Tina, as well as a few glasses of wine, to send Newt that text. She basks in the glow of his response. They don't talk much more, which is understandable. As soon as she saw the rumors of him and Leta shut down, it occurred to her that if she doesn't act soon, he could easily and quickly move onto someone else, and that persistent fear—and the knowledge that she would hate herself if she didn't try—is what finally compelled her to reach out.

A few intermittent messages and photos come in over the following month. Tina herself is swamped with work, but Newt sends goofy selfies of him and his cast mates having a pint and links her to random websites and articles he thinks she might like. She responds when she can.

He didn't shoot her down: that's the main thing. So Tina resolves to be patient. She throws herself into her work, apologizes to everyone she's snapped at, and waits for Newt to come back to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like there was angst but it's promising, right? Disaster mostly averted. Anyway, next chapter they'll have hit the two-month mark I mentioned in the tags.


	6. This kiss, this kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt is already on her front porch when Tina jumps up from the couch, crosses the threshold in two seconds, grabs his hand, and spins him around to face her. They’re evenly matched in height and nearly nose to nose as she takes a step closer to him. Her eyes flicker across his face searchingly; she brings one hand up to rest against his cheek.
> 
> Then her gaze drops to his lips, a cue that even Newt can’t miss. Before he can close the gap himself, she seems to come to a (very prudent) decision and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I heard someone talk about his first kiss with his wife awhile ago. He described it like the movies, fireworks and feeling weak in the knees and all. Obviously, that was instant inspiration for Newt and Tina's first kiss. Fluff abounds, of course.

_It’s the way you love me; it’s a feeling like this_ _  
_ _It’s centrifugal motion; it’s perpetual bliss_ _  
_ _It’s that pivotal moment; it’s, ah unthinkable_  
_This kiss, this kiss - unsinkable_

**~*~**

One month of shooting and narrowly avoided PR nightmares later, Newt can take it no more and begs Val to figure out some excuse for him to sneak out and see Tina.

“The things I do for you,” she sighs tragically, but gives him the green light. He calls for a jet before he can even get changed after an interview and photoshoot, and hightails it to the police station. Chastity gives him Tina's address in Rockaway Beach and informs him that Hank is on call should Newt step a toe out of line with Tina. This threat is rather discredited when Hank drops by with his 10-year-old daughter en route to her birthday dinner, but Newt appreciates the sentiment.

“Oh,” Tina says in surprise when she answers the door of her modest bungalow. Newt hates the way she looks around anxiously for paparazzi or aggressive fans. “Come in.”

He does. She's in her pajamas, hair pulled back, and an open carton of ice cream and a laptop playing _The Office_ rest on the well-used coffee table.

“I wasn't expecting you,” Tina says a little warily, and gestures to her setup. “Obviously.”

There's a long pause. Newt doesn't know what to do, because there are so many things he wants to say to her, needs her to understand. But he isn't sure that anything has changed since their last conversation, despite the texting, and he’s not taking any chances here.

“Listen, Newt,” Tina starts, then hesitates. “Wanna join?” She motions to the couch.

“Of course,” Newt says immediately. He feels foolish in his semi-formal outfit, next to Tina, who looks so domestic and laid back in sweats that it isn’t doing him any favors in the _ill-advised feelings for Tina_ department. Leta’s mansion was cold and impersonal, and even when she slept she wore makeup and designer lingerie and satin pajamas.

“You're a little over-dressed,” Tina comments, visibly biting back a smile. She reaches over and adjusts Newt’s bow tie. Then, “You ever watch this show?”

Newt nods. One of his houses has an in-home theatre, of course, but without a doubt he prefers this. Tina is sitting next to him, their thighs touching, and grabs the laptop as she swings her feet up to rest on the coffee table. Newt isn't totally sure what she expects him to do. In his defense, he _had_ been the first one to initiate physical contact; it isn't as though he's a complete coward. If Tina had not attempted to break up with him before they could even get started, he would no doubt be much more assertive. But _she_ was the one who claimed it wouldn't work out, so regardless of Emily's opinion, as far as Newt is concerned the ball is in her court.

“Hey,” Tina says, finger hovering above the spacebar. “You good?”

Newt laughs awkwardly. “Erm...”

Tina raises an eyebrow. “Didn't your movies teach you anything?”

“No, actually,” he admits. “They were a terrible substitute for dating advice. Evidently.”

Tina gives a soft laugh. “Evidently,” she repeats, and then, without further preamble, slips under Newt’s arm.

This is one of the things he missed out on by becoming famous so suddenly: sitting with his girlfriend, in sweatpants, watching Netflix and... cuddling? With the other women he's dated, the affair started at glamorous after-parties, flirting and witty comments and the intoxicating effect of two famous people celebrating a shared passion. They didn't exactly cuddle; sometimes they would sit in his lap in over-exposed photos later posted to tabloids, but there was always a purely sexual undertone to those relationships. It was a kiss by the stairwell, an elevator ride to his suite, and a month or two at most of waking up together amicably before going their separate ways. It wasn't _un_ pleasant, but it wasn't this.

“Is something wrong?” Tina asks, peering at him. There's definite mirth in her eyes. It makes him feel... normal.

“No,” Newt answers unconvincingly.

“Oh, Newt,” she sighs, and suddenly curls up much closer to him, her head nestled on his shoulder. “You're an idiot.”

“Thank you,” Newt replies, tugging Tina towards him a bit more. He looks at her for a moment, unable to read her face but knowing that at the very least, he isn't facing rejection. Then he leans forward and hits play.

They finish off the entire ice cream carton, passing it back and forth between them. Newt eventually grows incredibly uncomfortable in his clothes, prompting him to undo his bow tie and wonder if he should risk unbuttoning his shirt a bit. He shivers slightly in the coolness of the evening, but doesn’t want to disturb the police officer who’s fallen asleep almost completely on top of him.

“Hey,” Tina mumbles sleepily, eyes closed.

“Mm?” Newt asks.

Instead of saying anything, she presses her hand over his heart and, in an act that makes his stomach flip flop, ghosts her lips over his cheek in a not-quite-kiss.

Funny, how Newt has probably acted all of these scenes at one point or other, but they were always technical, with a director yelling out choreography in the background and his romantic counterpart equally preoccupied with getting a good take so they could get to lunch and pick up their kids. That’s the thing about acting. Newt could do an entire sex scene with someone—in fact, he has, multiple times—and have no idea what to do when it comes to the real thing. The _real_ real thing. Not just sex. Not what he's used to.

Not that Tina is about to have sex with him.

“Well,” Newt says awkwardly, getting to his feet. “It’s late.”

Tina has straightened up and is watching him intently. He stands there, bowtie dangling round his neck and suspenders hanging from his waist. She doesn’t seem to know exactly what to do—perhaps doesn’t know what she _wants_ to do. Newt, never having any expectations (he despises actors who seem to think that because they’re celebrities, every woman must sleep with them), moves to leave.

“Your book,” Tina breaks the oddly tense silence.

“Right.” Newt goes back to the couch and takes the signed book from Tina. She’s still gazing at him searchingly as he gently tugs it out of her hands. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” she replies, biting her lip.

Newt is itching to do what he really should have done the first time they parted. But it’s quite late, and despite her behavior now, Tina had semi-rejected him when they last spoke in person. And so he heads for the door.

Then he pauses, hand on the doorknob.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, “for everything.” He holds up the book. “And this.”

Newt is already on her front porch when Tina jumps up from the couch, crosses the threshold in two seconds, grabs his hand, and spins him around to face her. They’re evenly matched in height and nearly nose to nose as she takes a step closer to him. Her eyes flicker across his face searchingly; she brings one hand up to rest against his cheek.

Then her gaze drops to his lips, a cue that even Newt can’t miss. Before he can close the gap himself, she seems to come to a (very prudent) decision and kisses him.

It’s sensory overload: Newt had no idea that this sort of thing existed, and if he’s honest, he’s completely intoxicated. The kiss itself isn't even passionate or overtly sexual, it's just... a kiss. From Tina. Who he honestly thought, at least for a moment there, was never going to date him again.

The book drops to the ground as Newt cradles the back of Tina’s head in his hand, his other arm roaming restlessly as his fingers trace over her shoulders, the small of her back, the dip of her collarbone. Tina winds her arms around his neck and kisses him tenderly, so much so that he feels like he might actually melt. Her lips are soft and warm and almost as captivating as the rest of her and Newt  _really_ must thank Val.

After only a beat, Tina pulls away. It's a good thing, too, because Newt’s come over a bit wobbly and, judging by the way the normally tough police officer is gripping his forearms, he's not the only one. Their breath intermingles as they stand there in the semi-darkness, faces illuminated by a weak porch light.

“I’ve never...” Tina starts, eyes wide. She comes closer again and Newt wraps his arms around her waist; he can feel her heart thrumming against his chest where she's pressed up against him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a first kiss like _that.”_

“Me neither,” Newt agrees.

“That was a Hollywood kiss, wasn’t it,” Tina comments with a little smile.

“Possibly, yes. Except it was real,” Newt points out. But it was certainly worthy of fireworks and swelling orchestral music, if he does say so himself. In fact, he has a peculiar feeling now that the electricity of this kiss can’t be chalked up to kiss technique. It’s something organic, the sort of chemistry depicted in movies that Newt _used_ to roll his eyes at.

“Good.” Tina quirks the corner of her mouth, running her fingers through his bangs, and then yawns.

“Tired?” Newt asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” she apologizes sheepishly. “Stay the ni—” She stops, obviously remembering whom she’s talking to. “What d’you have tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” Newt replies, because Queenie mercifully cleared out his schedule for this quick escape. “Absolutely nothing.”

* * *

They end up going to bed—just to sleep, nothing more. Tina wraps herself in Newt’s arms and he stays awake as long as he can, savoring _this._ Whatever this is. It’s still new and still potentially foolish. But if he and Tina could work together to save car crash victims, he would like to think that they’ll be able to face whatever lies ahead. Not that it won’t be hard.

Newt supposes that this is how all love affairs start: the honeymoon phase. It’s something he’s certainly never experienced and, from Tina’s reaction, she likely feels the same. At the very least, they are in this together.

Tina’s skin is so pale in the moonlight leaking through the windowpanes that it makes her seem like a porcelain doll. She's anything _but_ fragile, though; she's unbreakable, and intelligent, and daring, and likes _him._

For the first time in forever, Newt falls asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

When Newt wakes up, Tina is sitting next to him in a bathrobe with wet hair wrapped like a turban in a towel, frowning at her laptop screen. “Hey,” she says warmly when he stirs.

“Morning,” Newt mumbles into the sheets.

“Sleep well?” Tina asks. She’s doing a poor job of hiding a grin.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Newt asks indignantly, flopping over onto his stomach.

“Nothing,” she replies. “Your hair’s just... really something.”

Newt grimaces. Stylists seriously like to pile on the product—being a man, he always hoped (foolishly) that he might evade all the grooming nonsense—and given that he didn’t get a chance to wash it out, he’s sure his already unruly curls are a total disaster.

Before he can respond, Tina gently pushes back his bangs, gazing down at him, and runs her thumb along his lower lip. Then she appears to shake herself out of something and quickly retreats.

“Don’t do that,” Newt protests, and tugs her towards him. She goes willingly, placing her laptop on her bedside table. When she leans down to kiss him, however, the towel on her head falls off, whacking Newt in the face.

“Sorry!” Tina yelps, tossing it on the floor. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Newt responds, and out of nowhere he can’t stop laughing.

“You sure you’re okay?” Tina asks, which for some reason only makes him laugh harder. Pretty soon the laughter is contagious, and the expression on her face goes from bewildered to hopelessly amused.

“It’s all so ridiculous,” Newt gasps finally, when he’s able to contain himself.

Tina looks down at him fondly. “What is?”

Newt shakes his head, overwhelmed, and runs a hand over his face. “Everything.”

“I know,” Tina concurs, sliding down in bed next to him as she sobers slightly. “What are we gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Newt answers thoughtfully, and puts his arm around her shoulder.

She hesitates. “I have to admit, I’m worried.”

“Worrying means you suffer twice,” he says sagely.

Tina raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a line from one of your movies?”

It is. Newt feigns being offended. “I thought you didn’t watch my movies.”

This silences Tina, whose cheeks go a bit pink. Newt has a delightful inkling that she must have watched all of his movies during his absence. So she _did_ miss him. Apparently the shrewd police officer can now read his mind, because she clarifies defensively, “I only watched a few.”

“Oh, but of course,” Newt returns flippantly. He laughs at the look on Tina's face, then tentatively tilts her chin up for a proper kiss, which is no less intoxicating than it was last night despite morning breath and the slightly awkward angle. He could do this for quite awhile, if it weren’t for the fact that his phone goes off with an unfortunate personalized ringtone.

_Newton, pick up. It’s your publicist calling. Newton, pick up. It’s your publicist calling. Newton, pick up. It’s your pub—_

“What?” he asks shortly.

“Where are you?”

Oh god. Val and Queenie must not have told Seraphina about his getaway. “Er... I took a quick vacation. I'll be back in a jiffy.”

“Please tell me you are not in some vapid young woman’s bed.”

Newt gives Tina a reassuring nod. “Not vapid, no,” he replies.

“Are you in a young woman’s bed?”

“Define ‘young’.”

There is a long, tense, disapproving silence. Then a sigh so loud Newt has to hold the phone two inches from his ear. “You will be the death of me.”

“You have mentioned this before.”

"Much as your relationship woes are valid, if I see one morning-after photo of you with some rebound—"

"Well, you needn't worry about that."

It doesn't take long for Seraphina to catch on. “Are you in Tina’s bed?”

“Tina who?” Tina reaches over and smacks him on the arm. Newt shrugs sheepishly.

His publicist appears speechless. “You do know this charade is entirely unconvincing. Newton, you are playing with fire if you—”

“Goodbye, Seraphina,” Newt says firmly, and hangs up. He turns to an amused and slightly exasperated Tina. “I don’t suppose there’s a single clause in my contract stating _specifically_ that I cannot block my publicist’s number.”

“It’s your life,” Tina says quietly. Too quietly. If only this would _stop coming up._

“I much prefer your lifestyle, I think,” Newt says honestly. Tina seems surprised. How could she possibly be surprised? Why on earth would he prefer his drab, cookie cutter life as a celebrity when he could live like this, like a _real_ person? 

“Well, welcome to the room of a single cop,” Tina responds sarcastically after a beat, gesturing to the area. She looks at Newt quickly. “Or not so single.”

“There you go,” Newt says approvingly, pressing his lips to her temple. “Are you working today?”

Tina shakes her head. “Hank took my shift. I _swear_ he’s like my overprotective father-slash-brother sometimes.”

“You deserve it,” Newt asserts confidently.

Tina casts him a sidelong glance. “I guess,” she says.

Newt removes his arm from Tina’s shoulders and intertwines their fingers for what he realizes is the first time, save for that strangely automatic gesture when they went running to the car accident. “You do,” he maintains firmly. Then something catches his eye: a small, innocuous pin resting against the base of Tina's bedside lamp. “What's that?”

“Oh... nothing,” Tina says hurriedly, reaching for it.

Newt swats her hand away and grabs it before she can.

“It's the Medal of Honor,” she confesses.

“What?”

“It's the highest law enforcement medal of the NYPD. I got it last year. They, uh, give it for ‘individual acts of extraordinary bravery at extreme risk and danger to life’.” This she rattles off as though she's heard it twenty times before. Which she probably has. Newt has been called humble before (uncomfortable with attention is more like it), but any humility he has is forever trumped by Tina’s.

“That is...” Newt can't help but be slightly awed. He doesn't need to be American to realize that this sort of medal isn't awarded lightly. “What was it for?”

Tina falters. “The short version is written on the back.”

“I’d much rather hear the longer version,” Newt says steadfastly. Then he kisses her again, both because he very much wants to and on the off chance it’ll persuade her. Apparently it does, because Tina gives a reluctant smile and explains,

“Back in 2015 there was this extremist and serial killer, Gellert Grindelwald. I was... well, I had intervened in a child abuse case and it backfired, so I was _technically_ fired. Anyway, Grindelwald and a few of his henchmen attacked with hatchets and guns, and I jumped in front of a little boy to save him and got shot in the crossfire. I kept fighting, though. It was probably stupid, really, but I won a medal for it at least. I got Grindelwald before I blacked out and spent a few weeks in the hospital.” Of course Tina says this dismissively, as though altruism at this level is commonplace. “I didn't kill him, but one of his accomplices died and another is still missing.” She grimaces. “That was my fault. I should’ve gotten him.”

“Are you mental?” Newt asks in disbelief. “Tina, you risked your life to save an entire city.”

“It was only one person.”

“They had hatchets. They would no doubt go on a rampage.”

“Yeah,” Tina admits. “Maybe you should go into law enforcement too.”

“Maybe I should,” Newt agrees, putting the medal back and squeezing her hand. “But I’m afraid I’m stuck in the acting business for the time being.” Tina doesn’t flinch at the reminder this time, which Newt supposes is a good thing. Regardless of the downsides and impracticalities of what they're doing, he trusts that she will ultimately be supportive of him and his passions. It was touching enough to see how proud she was when he got the script in the first place.

“Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t offer you many breakfast options. I have cereal. Aaaand... one egg,” Tina informs Newt. “And some stale bread. I need to go grocery shopping.”

“Let’s go, then,” Newt says, moving to get out of bed.

“Newt, no,” Tina says sharply. He falls back against the pillows, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. Of course. He can't risk being seen at a grocery store with a mysterious woman. Or even at a grocery store he usually doesn't frequent. He's technically supposed to be in California right now, right? God, he doesn't even know where he's supposed to be anymore. “It’s fine, I can go," Tina continues, sliding out of bed. She takes off her bathrobe; Newt has a moment of panic, but she's already dressed beneath it. "I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“No,” Newt protests as he gets to his feet. He’s fairly certain that this is not how things are supposed to go after the sort of evening they had. “What do you usually do for breakfast?”

Tina looks slightly embarrassed. “To tell you the truth? I either go to Dunks or McDonald’s for half my meals. Like I said: single cop.”

“It _is_ a riveting lifestyle,” Newt jokes.

“Besides, you need clothes,” she points out pragmatically.

This is valid. Newt needs clothes, and a hair brush, and probably a shower so he doesn’t smell like expired cologne. “I had everything dropped off at my apartment. I can get the car. Does McDonald’s deliver?”

Tina gapes at him. “You’re seriously suggesting we have fast food for breakfast?”

Newt shrugs as he fires off a text to one of his chauffeurs. “I did say I prefer living like this. Five-star gourmet meals three times a day can get a bit boring, you see. Leta serves salad and beet juice every other course, and when Emily indulged in a bag of Cheetos she got yelled at spectacularly by her manager. After that, McDonald’s is more than ideal.” The couple make their way to the living room and pause near the threshold.

“What _is_ your life?” Tina asks incredulously, but with a flippant tone. She leans against the door, arms crossed, and watches as Newt kneels down to tie his shoes. “Yeah, or I can go by the drive thru while you get cleaned up.”

“I’ll have an egg McMuffin,” Newt replies, standing. The car is already outside: admittedly one of the perks to having the sort of money and acclaim that he does. “And some tea.” With that, he grabs his wallet, kisses Tina goodbye, and zips out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funnily enough, I actually have two versions of their first kiss, which is part of what took me so long to post this chapter. I might post the other version at some point (or perhaps at the end of this fic, which is still a ways off) as an outtake.
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed their first kiss. I apologize for the wait but I just got a Chromebook to replace my decrepit Macbook and decided to finish this chapter to celebrate.


	7. This slope is treacherous, this path is reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you,” Tina says sincerely. This weekend has felt like something out of someone else’s life. She’s sure that she’s currently living up some twelve-year-old girl’s fantasies right now. And now it’s back to reality for however long Newt is gone this time around.
> 
> “Thank you,” Newt echoes.
> 
> “Anytime,” Tina replies, biting her lip. “So I guess I’ll see y—”
> 
> In one fluid motion (he definitely learned some suave moves from his films), Newt pulls her in so that she’s pressed up against him, chest to chest and thigh to thigh, supported by a surprisingly strong arm around her waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this got very lengthy because I went in depth and explained Newt’s background. Next chapter Newt and Tina will get to meet up again, though, so you can look forward to that. Apologies if family background isn’t your thing.

_And I'll do anything you say if you say it with your hands_ _  
_ _And I'd be smart to walk away, but you're quicksand_ _  
_ _This slope is treacherous, this path is reckless_   
This hope is treacherous, this daydream is dangerous

**~*~**

Dating Newt is a bit like playing with fire, and Tina knows it better even than his team.

The actor himself is, unsurprisingly, earnest and endearing and obviously all in. The problem is the rest of the world.

It’s lovely and sunny outside, but Seraphina and Queenie advise Newt against risking exposure (Val is entirely pro-throw-caution-to-the-wind-with-Tina at this point, and thus her opinion is disregarded on all related matters). Although the media has no reason to know Newt’s whereabouts, there are stories aplenty of eagle-eyed paparazzi flying helicopters over people’s houses, straining for a glimpse of an elusive celebrity in an illicit affair. The possibility of this is more than a little stressful for Tina. She can’t quite tell where Newt stands on the matter.

Living in The Rockaways was definitely one of Tina’s better choices. Much as she loves the electricity of the city, it's nice to come home to in a more subdued area with fewer prying eyes and constant noise. Granted, it makes for a longer commute, but all in all she's thankful for the quiet, especially since Newt sneaking into a city apartment would be a death sentence.

The only thing is that if Newt wasn’t, well, _Newt,_ they would be able to take advantage of everything the small community has to offer. Bars, ice cream shops, beaches, boardwalks, friendly neighbors...

But he _is_ Newt, and so the couple, if they can be called that yet, eat their gratuitously unhealthy breakfasts and talk on Tina’s back porch for nearly three hours. Newt discloses all the dirty secrets of the celebrities he knows; Tina recounts dramatic tales of capturing bad guys, which seems to enthrall Newt far more than it reasonably should. Still, she isn’t entirely blind to the way he looks at her, as though he’s proud and slightly in awe, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same.

Newt’s craft isn’t like law enforcement. It isn’t valiant, or suspenseful, or courageous. His is an art that can be very much appreciated, but when Tina is so estranged from the acting world it can be hard to know how to feel about it. Regardless, she wants Newt to succeed and be happy, because as humble as he accuses her of being, he is just as genuinely down to earth and kind.

Tina makes grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, which are consumed with coffee mugs of orange juice and accompanied by Girl Scout cookies. “Hank sells them every year for his daughter,” Tina explains. “He’s a very convincing salesman.”

“I’m not surprised,” Newt replies, smiling.

They have until nine o’clock before Newt has to leave. His bags are at Tina’s now, saving him the scramble of running back to the apartment before his departure. The two of them end up playing old board games that Tina finds in the bottom of the closet: she wins The Game of Life but in a shocking turn of events, Newt butchers her in chess.

“I was top of the chess club in school,” Newt admits.

For some reason this makes Tina feel incredibly... what _does_ she feel, anyway? “Fond” is the best way to describe it, except that makes her feel rather like an old grandmother. Nevertheless, Newt is adorable, sitting cross legged in casual clothes, freshly shaven and slightly flushed with embarrassment when Tina laughs. “Nerd,” she comments, then on impulse leans over and kisses him.

This whole kissing thing is new. Not that Tina’s never kissed anyone before—she’s had her fair share of boyfriends—but it’s admittedly been awhile, and she meant it when she told Newt that she’d never had a first kiss like theirs. She has mixed feelings about where to go from here: it’s unclear if it’s his reputation or her own caution that’s ensuring she does not take this any further any faster.

Besides, she has no idea how this is going to work timing-wise. Newt may be able to steal away for a day or two, but what with the movie and talk show appearances and photoshoots, she knows how busy he is. She, unlike him, does not have access to a private jet or a job flexible enough that she can fly across the country for a weekend on a whim.

Either way, there’s no time for either of them to be second-guessing. Newt shows off his expert dinner cooking skills with a few packets of ramen left over from a ridiculous team-building camping trip and Tina lights candles. The tone is increasingly subdued as the night goes on, their voices increasingly softer, and both pretend not to be checking the time every two minutes.

Finally, headlights flash in the window and Tina reluctantly stands up and walks to the door. Newt follows suit. She isn’t an emotional woman, so why on earth does she feel choked up as they pause awkwardly?

“Thank you,” Tina says sincerely. This weekend has felt like something out of someone else’s life. She’s sure that she’s currently living up some twelve-year-old girl’s fantasies right now. And now it’s back to reality for however long Newt is gone this time around.

“Thank _you,”_ Newt echoes.

“Anytime,” Tina replies, biting her lip. “So I guess I’ll see y—”

In one fluid motion (he _definitely_ learned some suave moves from his films), Newt pulls her in so that she’s pressed up against him, chest to chest and thigh to thigh, supported by a surprisingly strong arm around her waist. He makes eye contact with her for a split second in which the only sound is their breathing; then Tina moves, or maybe he does, it doesn’t matter, and their goodbye kiss is no less electric than their first. Newt is being painfully respectful, Tina thinks, heart pounding, and she makes it a point to deepen the kiss this time.

But duty and a car outside call, and Tina’s vow not to let this go any further is starting to lose viability, so she allows Newt to break it off.

“Erm,” he says, looking slightly ruffled and definitely flushed. “Right.”

Tina laughs and smooths back his bangs. “Right.” Then she kisses him on the cheek and squeezes his hand. It's been awhile since she's had a relationship, and unnerving that she should feel and behave so... domestic, so early on. “Have a good flight.”

“You too,” Newt says. He shakes his head. “I mean—”

“Yep, got it,” Tina replies, grinning. “Bye.”

Newt seems reluctant to let go of her hand, but his alarm went off five minutes ago and he really can't afford to be late, so he takes one last look around, as though memorizing the interior of her house, then gives Tina a small smile and leaves. Tina watches from the window as he slides into the waiting car. Its tinted windows means she can't see Newt, and whether he's waving at her, so instead she leans against the windowsill and watches as he disappears into the night.

* * *

The next few weeks are rough. It’s not exactly _easy_ for Tina to watch Newt’s life play out in pictures and rumors fly while she’s stuck back home, catching criminals and doing the same thing day to day. Texting between the two is minimal; Queenie and Seraphina seem to have a monopoly on Newt’s phone after he committed a few PR missteps on social media. Besides, Tina gets the feeling that Newt doesn't really want to talk to her. Not in a personal way, but he has his life and he's doing his thing while she... what, waits back home?

Thinking about the future is pointless. Chastity reminds Tina about twenty times a day to live in the moment. It's a lot more difficult than it should be. Still, despite growing impatience and stress, there's a skip in Tina’s step and renewed enthusiasm for her work that her coworkers can't help but notice. Some of them know about Newt, some of them don't. Luckily they're all tight-lipped.

To the public, at least. Hank has no qualms interrogating his disgruntled partner between calls.

“Leave me alone,” Tina groans.

“If he ignores you, you tell me and I’ll take care of it,” Hank pledges.

“I can take care of myself!” Tina objects.

“Of course you can. Just like Leah can take care of a pet hamster.” The latest tussle between father and daughter has been over getting a hamster, and the amount of drama and angst it’s been generating is extremely amusing to all of his coworkers.

“You know what—holy _shit,”_ Tina says as a car drives past their position on the median at 90 miles an hour. “Buckle up,” she warns her partner (who makes an annoyed comment about _seatbelts save lives_ and of _course_ he's buckled up, he's always buckled up; the liability is _Tina,_ who tries to eat donuts and drive simultaneously), and thus the conversation is ended.

Tina downloaded and deleted Snapchat within twelve hours, but she may or may not have eventually redownloaded it, just to read the ridiculous news stories, hoping—or not—that a familiar redhead will make an appearance. Instead, Tina ends up thanking the powers that be that Newt isn’t a woman, because the aggression of the media truly is unsettling. Somehow, intrusively snapping a photograph with such bright flashes that it exposes a celebrity’s undergarments while they’re trying to go on a date qualifies as a news story unto itself.

The thing is, Tina still doesn’t know how she feels about this relationship. As of now, they both seem to be committed to it. But if and when they’re found out, will she be the next victim? Unable to leave her house without someone critiquing her nails or taking photos of her even as she tries to cover her face with a shopping bag?

“I miss him,” Tina confesses to Chastity after a strenuous shift. She hasn’t heard from Newt in five days.

Chastity casts her a glance of motherly empathy. “I’m not surprised.”

“Do you think it’s unsustainable, what we’re doing?”

Chastity hesitates. “He likes you.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“You’re still scared of the media, aren’t you.”

“What would it do to the NYPD?”

“We’ve discussed this, _multiple_ times,” Chastity answers, sounding annoyed, which makes Tina feel bad. She isn’t usually the type to annoy everyone by complaining about the same thing constantly. She isn’t usually the type to complain or express stress, for that matter. “Just see where this goes and stop second-guessing your choices.”

“Okay,” Tina agrees begrudgingly, and reaches for her keys.

* * *

“Cut!”

Newt lets his arm fall away from around Emily’s shoulder as she immediately makes a beeline for Daveed, who’s shown up on set early to surprise her. Newt and Emily have been shooting their romantic scenes, though they have yet to get to the pivotal kiss. After kissing Tina, Newt isn’t so sure how this is going to go.

Then again, he’s an A-list actor. It’s his job to do these sorts of things. Plus, he’s grown quite fond of Emily, who’s somehow a combination of Val and Queenie. He respects her opinion and considers her to be one of the more talented women he’s ever worked with.

“Hey,” Emily says. Newt jumps. She smirks. “Jumpy?”

“Just thinking.”

The actress sighs. “How’s Tina?”

“Fine.”

Emily gives him a look very reminiscent of Val. “When’s the last time you two talked?”

Newt shifts uncomfortably. “A week.”

“You know if you’re dating someone, it’s common practice to text them when you two are apart. Look at Theseus.” Emily motions to the other redhead, who’s showing Mary around the set via FaceTime.

“Yes, well, Theseus is not being followed by paparazzi.”

“You’re safe in here,” Emily points out. “Stop making excuses and give her a call before she forgets about you!”

Forgets about him? He should hope not. “Emily...”

“I get it, the long distance thing sucks, but if you’re serious about this relationship then you need to make the effort.”

The fact of the matter is, if Newt was a regular guy and _wasn’t_ traveling across the country half the time, their relationship, if there is to be one, would progress normally. He and Tina would go on dates, get to know one another, naturally fall into sleeping over and cooking dinner and referring to themselves as “we”. And when he went away for long periods of time, they’d be like Theseus and Mary.

But Mary, being a singer-songwriter, has far more flexibility in her schedule and has been either traveling alongside her boyfriend or making herself available whenever he is. Tina doesn’t have that luxury. So many meetings and interviews and auditions and recording studios are in California that it’s oftentimes more convenient for Mary to follow Theseus around, but it wouldn’t make sense, even if she wanted to, for Tina to transfer to California, because Newt would still be gone half the time when he was doing projects elsewhere. A stop-and-go relationship... does it really make sense?

Except it was the way Tina kissed him, and the way he fell asleep with her as though he’d been there forever, and how proud she was of him and he was of her. It’s worth it to him, as long as it is to her too.

“Just the opinion of someone who’s been in a ten-year relationship and has successfully done the long distance thing,” Emily concludes, and reaches over to grab a handful of grapes from the table behind Newt.  “But what do I know?”

Across the room, Theseus hangs up with Mary and ambles over to the two other actors. “How goes it?”

“I was just telling Newt here that he should be texting Tina more,” Emily explains.

“And I was just disregarding her opinion,” Newt adds.

“Shut up,” Emily says blithely, swatting him on the arm. Then she waves at both men and rejoins her fiancé.

“How is she?” Newt inquires of Theseus.

“Mary? Excellent. She is flying in tomorrow.” Theseus eyes Newt. “I am sorry about Tina.”

“I can’t very well do anything about it anyway,” Newt points out. “She has her own job. Her own life.”

“Which does not mean there is no room in it for someone else,” Theseus says sternly. “It will be fine. We are hanging around here for marketing and publicity, and we were going to spend the week in between together, but I’m sure you can charm everyone into letting you fly back to your Tina instead.”

“Val and Queenie, probably. Seraphina...” Newt grimaces.

“She does seem rather severe,” Theseus acknowledges, “but she is, after all, responsible for your public image. Every time you see Tina, you’re running a major PR risk.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Newt snaps sharply, then cringes. “Sorry.”

Theseus waves him off. “Not to worry.” Cast and crew has begun filtering in again. The ex-football player claps Newt on the shoulder. “Consider it.”

They finish filming at nine o’clock, but there’s still debriefing to do. Newt and Emily, who have both sustained several takes of a very emotional scene, are sent off to unwind a bit. Emily immediately calls Daveed; Newt goes to the vacant makeup room and wipes off the vestiges of his foundation.

Queenie opens the door just as Newt is whether he ought to text Tina now. “It’s for you,” Queenie says, handing him his phone, which he completely forgot he’d left in a trailer. He has an inkling as to whom it might be as he answers.

“Newton?” Kate Scamander says. Queenie beams at Newt and leaves quietly. “Darling, how _are_ you?”

“Hello, Mum. I’m fine.” The call is coming from an unknown international number, so Newt follows this up with, “Where are you?”

Kate, who initially ran her family’s dog breeding business, used the rest of her inheritance after Newt’s big break to establish an animal rescue program. As a result, she frequently travels to save and deliver abused, abandoned, and trafficked animals. While the venture began as a small dog shelter, Kate’s non-profit has blown up in the past decade, and she and her staff have recently aided rescues of animals as exotic as pangolins and Bengal tigers. “I’ve just arrived in Belize,” Kate answers. “We’re partnering with the Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary.”

Of course she is. Newt was close with his mother growing up, and he’s beyond relieved to see her doing something she loves. Kate poured so much time and energy into his childhood that the least he can do is ensure she’s happy and successful. “That’s excellent,” he says.

She gives a warm laugh and Newt feels a pang of homesickness. He hasn’t seen her in over a year now. “It is, it is. Exhausting, though, and I’m not so sure how these lengthy plane rides are treating me nowadays... how’s the movie?”

Newt is still preoccupied reflecting on his conversation with Emily and Theseus. “It’s alright.”

Kate doesn’t miss a beat. “Who is she?”

Newt nearly drops the phone. “Who?”

His mother scoffs dismissively. “Oh, your father was the same way when we were growing up.” Both of Newt’s parents came from significant money—which was the reason they could afford to send Newt to private school in the first place—and were friends from birth who spent summers together as children running amok at a deluxe resort owned by Newt’s grandparents and frequented by Kate’s family. “The only time you ever act like this is when you’ve got your eye on someone. It’s about time, too. Is she a coworker?”

“No,” he answers warily, deciding that lying is pointless.

“How did you meet?”

“Er...”

“I do hope you’ll visit before proposing?”

“Mum!” Newt yelps. “I have no intention of proposing, we only just began dating—”

“Put me on with Queenie, would you?”

“No,” Newt says firmly. That is a terrible idea. The two of them in cahoots is almost as bad as the two of them and Seraphina in cahoots. Throw Val into the mix, and Newt might as well give up on making any decisions, ever, for the rest of his life.

“That’s wonderful, darling,” Kate proclaims, unfazed. “I never was too fond of that model you were photographed snogging last year. And of course Leta was _terrible._ Pretty young woman, but aren’t they all.”

“Did you have any particular reason to call, other than to criticize my love life?” Newt asks loudly.

“I wanted to say hello to my son, of course.”

“Hello, then.”

“You sound exhausted.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you been sleeping well?”

 _“Fine,_ Mum.”

“Well,” Kate begins purposefully, and Newt knows _exactly_ what’s coming. “Have you heard from your father?”

Phillip Scamander was 20 when he married Katherine Pendergrast, who is two years his senior. Newt was born shortly thereafter. His father’s battle with depression and subsequent diagnosis of bipolar disorder meant that Newt was primarily raised by Kate between Phil’s increasingly frequent hospitalizations. Newt had explained this to Tina when they were discussing Modesty’s friend, but the cop has far from the full story. As soon as drugs entered the picture and Phil tried to show up to Newt’s debut musical high out of his mind, Kate ended things then and there, moving to the States and taking her son, brother, and sister with her.

Apparently the divorce was a wake-up call: back in England, Phil, who genuinely regretted not having a relationship with Newt, managed to begin the harrowing process of overcoming his substance abuse and coping with bipolar. He maintained that Newt ought to do what he wanted, and that auditioning for movies wasn’t going to give his son a proper childhood, but Kate pointed out (rightfully so) that Phil barely knew Newt’s middle name, thus absolving him of any authority on their son’s future.

The divorce was finalized when Newt was fourteen. It was a long and complicated case given the Scamander and Prendergrasts’ legacies and businesses. But possessions were divvied up and papers signed, and as far as Kate was concerned, Phil was a distant memory. To his credit, he continued to provide child support and birthday cards and made thwarted attempts to contact his son. This money was put into a college fund; the birthday cards went in a small shoebox beneath Newt’s bed. Kate kept her married name purely because she didn’t want Newt to feel any more estranged than she knew he already did. After all, singing “Memory” from _Cats_ in clumsy stage makeup as a prepubescent boy wasn’t exactly the picture of “cool”.

Four years after they severed ties, Phil showed up out of nowhere, announcing that he had married an old primary school classmate and that Newt has a stepsister his age. This sudden reappearance occurred the opening night of Newt’s ground-breaking film, at which point he made the somewhat impulsive decision to cut off contact with his father. This decision he later revoked at age 25 when he heard that his step-sister, Poppy Wesley-Scamander, had stage four breast cancer. Phil had made some unwise financial decisions, and he was already in trouble having had (oh so altruistically, Kate said sarcastically) paid for the majority of his own hospitalizations, so in spite of insurance and his bank account, the family was struggling to cover medical costs. Newt absorbed the rest of Poppy’s medical bills.

Poppy went into remission, Phil was less of an asshole towards Kate, and everyone parted ways amicably. Poppy sends Newt a text every awards show and movie premiere, and he’s been invited to her wedding, but there ends their familial relationship. For her part, Kate, even though she is a very mature and wise woman in every other regard, perpetuates a level of animosity towards her ex-husband, and as such frequently interrogates Newt about Phil.

“No, but Poppy invited me to her wedding,” Newt replies evenly.

“Lovely.”

“Mum...”

“Hey, Mr. Smooth Guy!” Val yells, poking her head into the room. “We need you out here!”

Kate sighs. “I’m sorry, Newtie. I do want to meet your mystery woman. And I’d like to see you.”

“I may be traveling back home in the fall,” Newt informs her. “To England.”

“So I can meet your girl!” Kate proposes brightly.

If Tina is amenable and miraculously the stars align logistics-wise, Newt fully intends on bringing her along. But that’s a ways from now, and who’s to say they’ll last that long? “Maybe,” he responds placatingly. “Love you.”

“Take care, darling.”

“How was your _mummy?”_ Val asks when Newt joins her.

He frowns. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Mocking me.”

“Me? Mock you? What an absurd accusation,” Val proclaims in feigned shock.

Newt _is_ exhausted, and dealing with his parents’ dysfunctional relationship never helps, and he misses Tina. “Forget it.”

“Hey, pal, you good?” Val asks, grabbing him by the arm.

“Just tired.”

“Do you not like your mom?”

“It is... complicated. I love her very much. She just doesn’t particularly like my father.”

Val grimaces. “Been _there._ Never fun. Well, if I can interest you in some cleverly crafted insults and sarcastic asides, let me know.”

“Thanks, Val.” Newt joins Emily and Theseus at the table and runs a hand through his hair. “Back to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Kate’s current profession doesn’t exactly align with the whole hippogriff breeding thing, but I liked the idea that she would be a philanthropic independent woman. Plus, with Newt’s closet penchant for zoology, it’s nice having a mother who works with animals (perhaps they’ll meet up at some point and he’ll get to spend time with the rescues). I didn’t want Newt to have an unrealistically perfect childhood and family life, so he has at least some sort of baggage, but obviously nothing he considers to be comparable to anyone else’s struggles.


	8. Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theseus stands his ground. “Newton. Give me the phone. I will not let you call Tina like this.”
> 
> “I need… I needa tell her something,” Newt slurs.
> 
> “Give. Me. The. Phone.”
> 
> But Newt has already dialed Tina’s number. “Shhh, it’s ringing,” he announces in a stage whisper. “Hold that thought, just one minute, Theseus.” Theseus buries his head in his hands. “Where’s the speaker? The… Theseus? Help me,” he says in increasing panic. “Speaker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy drunk Newt. Sorry there’s no Newtina meetup, but they need some time apart and drunk (and then hungover) Newt was too difficult to resist writing. The 17 hot dogs and "unprecedented" comments come straight from my friend's drunk uncle.

_You had it figured out when you were in school_  
_Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool_  
_So overnight you look like a sixties king_

**~*~**

“Why must I do this again?” Newt queries as his hair is rudely assaulted with product and bizarre hairstyling apparatuses. “For a quick interview?”

Val shrugs. “Well, you know how it is. Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool.”

Isn’t that a Taylor Swift song? Not wanting to admit that he has _1989_ in its entirety downloaded on his phone, Newt only shrugs. “Tina is both pretty _and_ cool. _She_ doesn’t have to do this.” He gestures bitterly to the general state of affairs.

“She’s a police officer. You’re a celebrity. Two different worlds, my friend.” Val crosses her legs and thumbs through her phone, humming to herself.

“Do you ever feel as though others are trying to turn you into something you are not?” Newt inquires suddenly.

Val stops scrolling and looks up at him. “What d’you mean?”

Newt shrugs. “I don’t know. I suppose I worry that the more people do makeup and put me in different clothes and plaster my face on merchandise, I may start becoming someone different. Someone I don’t particularly like.”

“Well, you got this far without a big head, so I’ll grant you that,” Val responds. “I don’t think you need to worry about it. And it might make you all mopey if I mention Tina, but honestly, dating a lowly cop might help temper you if you ever do get too high and mighty.”

“I am not all mopey about Tina,” Newt insists. “But alright.”

As Newt’s time in LA goes on, Modesty continues to provide significant and emphatic encouragement, if only to get the actor off her back—despite once only _dreaming_ of knowing him, after she wakes up from a one-hour nap to twelve notifications from him, she decides that he’s officially taken to texting her far too much. And so, after she’s threatened to block him if he doesn’t take a chill pill, Newt begins staying in touch with Tina for earnest and everything calms down. Newt is relieved to discover that after the initial awkwardness of their first FaceTime call, and the ambiguity of when and how often they think they should talk, both fall into a more comfortable pattern.

Seeing as both parties are busy and (despite liking each other a great deal) also somewhat introverted, they don’t talk every day. Sometimes Tina is too tired to make conversation; sometimes Newt’s dealt with rooms of hundreds of people all day and just wants to read his book and go to bed. But Emily gives this step in the right direction the seal of approval, and Modesty comments gratefully that Newt seems to have gotten a little less crazed about the whole thing. His acting improves, as does his mood and famously dorky sense of humor, and even though he’d much rather be _with_ Tina, their FaceTime conversations are the next best thing.

The film is moving along, each day more enjoyable than the last. Unlike Newt, who had social media privileges revoked after a disastrous attempt to do the internet thing, Emily and Theseus are very active online. Newt is the type of actor who actually can’t really stand seeing himself on camera, a tendency that is in turn mocked and then challenged by Emily persistently shoving her phone in front of his face and posting uncomfortable candids on Snapchat. Which for some inexplicable reason makes his fans go wild. Luckily, since it isn’t unusual for costars to post photographs together, and because Emily is engaged, regardless of their multiple forced photos together, no rumors have flown since the Leta debacle.

Truth be told, however, Newt does feel a bit left out, because he ends up being very much the fifth wheel every time he and his costars are together. Theseus has Mary; Emily has Daveed. This leaves Newt to take cute romantic Instagrams or otherwise hover awkwardly at the edge of the frame while the two lovey-dovey couples pose for #relationshipgoals pictures.

Newt wonders if he and Tina will ever be considered relationship goals.

Shooting wraps up at the end of July. There’s always a post-filming letdown—after all, the cast has spent nearly every waking moment together for two months. There are tears shed by all, and hugs, and promises to keep in touch that are highly unlikely to pan out. ‘Keep in touch’ generally translates to ‘maybe we’ll talk at the next awards show’.

That being said, Newt genuinely does want to keep in touch this time around. Theseus and Emily have been amazing friends, and Newt, in his own stammering, _expressing feelings is not my favorite thing in the world exactly except perhaps when it comes to certain police officers_ way, conveys this sentiment.

The wrap party, which is held at a bar, is a huge affair: music, way too much food, way too many people, and a lot of emotion. As the night progresses, the area gets even louder and couples start peeling off.

Newt doesn’t drink very often. This is partly because he can’t hold his alcohol and partly because after watching his father’s battle with drugs, he avoids mood-altering substances at all costs. However, he is much more emotional about the film ending than he has been about previous projects, and at this point he really misses Tina. And so Theseus and Emily get to watch in amusement as Newt gets progressively more drunk.

“I miss Tina,” he professes at midnight, flinging his arms around Emily and Theseus’s necks.

“We know you do,” Emily says tolerantly, and pries him off of her.

Newt furrows his brow. “D’you think she likes me?”

“Of course,” Theseus reassures him. Newt nearly falls over.

“Meeting her was… it was… unprecedented,” Newt continues, and slams his hand on the table for emphasis.

Emily tries to look serious. “It was what?”

“Oi! Don’t make fun of me,” Newt complains, pointing a finger in her general direction and missing by several degrees. “I was being very eloquent.”

The actress grins. “Say it again?”

“Unprecedented.” He’s quite impressed with himself, but evidently no one else is. “It was unpre… unprecedennn…” Newt frowns. “Unprecedented.”

“Good job,” Emily says condescendingly, and pats him on the head.

“I think I should call her,” Newt declares. He almost knocks over his half-full pint as he stumbles to get his phone and comes dangerously close to dropping it in the punch bowl.

“Okay, drunkie,” Emily says. “I’m out. You can deal with this.” She pats Newt on the head again, smirks at Theseus, and flees the scene.

“BYE, EMILY!” Newt hollers across the room. Then he turns back to his phone. What was he doing? Oh, right. Calling Tina.

“No,” Theseus says in alarm. He grabs Newt by the elbow and tries to steer him away from the table. “Give me your phone.”

“Give _me_ your phone,” Newt counters cleverly.

Theseus stands his ground. “Newton. Give me the phone. I will not let you call Tina like this.”

“I need… I needa tell her something,” Newt slurs.

“Give. Me. The. Phone.”

But Newt has already dialed Tina’s number. “Shhh, it’s ringing,” he announces in a stage whisper. “Hold that thought, just one minute, Theseus.” Theseus buries his head in his hands. “Where’s the speaker? The… Theseus? Help me,” he says in increasing panic. “Speaker.”

Theseus reaches over and turns on speaker just as Tina picks up.

“Hello?”

“Tina!” Newt cries.

“Newt?”

“I have something to tell you,” Newt declares over the music.

“Newton is very drunk,” Theseus adds, wrestling the phone from Newt’s grasp. “Please hang up.”

“Is he okay?” Tina asks in concern.

Theseus glances at Newt. “It depends on your definition of ‘okay’,” he concludes. “Right, _I’m_ going to hang up, because this was a terrible idea.”

“I... okay.”

“You’re an _arse!”_ Newt declares. He jabs Theseus in the chest. “You... she’s mine.”

“I don’t think a single person is refuting that fact,” Theseus replies. “But you’d better give me your phone. Please.”

“No,” Newt says, and Theseus watches in horror as he starts typing, “I wanno tell her that she’s _pretty.”_

“Not happening,” Theseus maintains, and removes the phone again. “I’d leave, but I’m pretty sure you might die if I do.”

Mary shows up presently. “Hey, babe, you ready to g—” she starts, then glimpses Newt and raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Theseus sighs. He tosses her the car keys. “You can go home, I’ve got to make sure this idiot doesn’t accidentally kill himself.”

“Hey. Hey,” Newt says, and starts poking Mary’s arm.

She looks pained. “Newt...”

“Can I order 17 hot dogs?” he yells. He attempts to hold up 17 fingers, but gets very confused before realizing, “Oh, _that's_ silly, we've only got eleven fingers anyhow.”

Mary's watching him in slight disbelief. “I’m not a waitress.”

Not with _that_ attitude. “You’re a _rubbish_ one,” Newt insults her.

Mary turns helplessly to her boyfriend. “Good luck,” is all she says, and backs out to talk to Queenie. Seraphina has already left and taken Val with her, because neither drunk Val nor Val around a bunch of drunk people bodes well.

“Nope,” Theseus says, intervening when Newt reaches for an abandoned and mostly full beer can. “Let’s get you back to the hotel. Please.”

“No no no _nooooo,”_ Newt shakes his head vehemently, “I need to talk to Tina.”

“Well, you can make bad decisions at the hotel, safely in your room, with the area clear of sharp objects.”

“D’you think she likes me?”

“Yes, she does.”

“D’you think I like her?”

“What do you think?”

Newt stops in his tracks and concentrates very hard, then shakes his head. “Oh yeah. Tha’s me.”

Theseus gets a firm grasp on Newt’s shoulder and manages to shepherd him outside to a waiting SUV. “He’s incredibly drunk and might need help getting inside,” Theseus informs the driver.

“I’m drunk! Hey!” Newt realizes. He leans in through the car window. “I’m drunk.”

“In you go,” Theseus says, coaxing Newt into the back seat. He pats the actor on the head. “You be safe now. I’ll send Queenie over to check on you in the morning, because I’ve a feeling you may be in for a nasty hangover.”

“Theseus,” Newt says, grabbing his friend’s wrist. “Theseus.” He clears his throat. “This is important. The most important I’m ever gonna say.” Did he miss a word in there? Words are funny.

Theseus steels himself. “Yes, Newton?”

Newt assumes an extremely grave expression. “Can you show me how to throw a football?”

Theseus stifles a laugh. “Perhaps another time,” he responds, and shakes his hand from Newt’s grasp. “I don’t think you can see straight enough to walk right now, let alone hold a football.”

“Wait, Theseus!”

Theseus sighs. “This is the last time, Newt.”

“I know, I know. I just... I have to know.” Newt pauses for dramatic effect. This is really the truly important question, honestly, and he nearly chokes up over exactly _how_ profound it is. “Red Vines or Twizzlers?”

“See you later,” Theseus says firmly, and shuts the door.

* * *

Once Newt is safely in his hotel room, he stares into space for awhile, trying to recall the past few months and figure out why he feels sad all of a sudden. Sad and alone. And drunk. Then he remembers that he was doing something important, and fishes his phone out of his pocket. It takes him a minute to remember how to compose a text to Tina, but when he does he gets right down to business.

_Tina_

_Tina TIona Toin Tina aniT TIna iNA Tina TIna nTINA_

_Your_

Newt? You okay?

_TINA!!!!!!!!!!!_

What’s up?

_YOur beautiful_

_I like ou_

Are you drunk?

_Yes_

_I thik so_

_Im not sobber lol_

Where did Theseus go?

_no_

What?

_Willnu go out with m ep_

We already went out, remember?

_did you luke it?_

Yes, I liked it.

Listen, I’m going to let you go, because it’s late and you may say something you regret.

_I don cregret anything_

_never_

That’s very nice. Goodnight, Newt.

_wIAT_

_WAIT_

What?

_Did u know that i like yuo_

_yoYH_

_YOU_

Thank you. I like you too.

_how much?_

What?

_1 to 12_

_10_

_ON a scale_

I’m not rating how much I like you.

_than we can compwre_

We are not comparing how much we like each other. GOODNIGHT.

_I bet i liek u more_

Please stop. You’re acting like a 13-year-old boy.

_Why arent you here insted of ther_

_/_

_your verry rude_

I have work, that’s why. I’ll see you soon. Hopefully sober.

_ill see you NOW_

What?

_Idk_

Okay, sure. Please don’t die. Text me when you wake up.

_Do yOU thik me tooo?_

What???

_Think IM pretty too_

Yes, Newt, you’re very pretty.

_htank you_

You’re welcome. Goodnight.

_byeee_

_Tina_

_tina???_

_when_

_Did y know_

_goodbye_

Knowing even in his horrifically intoxicated state when he’s beat, Newt throws his phone across the room and flops down in his bed, already dreading the fact that he is going to _seriously_ be screwed tomorrow morning. He considers trying to stay up all night to delay the inevitable, but it’s been a stressful (if positively so, for the most part) past several weeks, and fatigue gets the better of him.

* * *

Newt wakes up to a headache that feels as though someone’s jackhammering his brain. When he opens his eyes, he’s met with floodlights and immediately regrets it.

“Hey, pal!” Val says brightly, and suddenly her face obscures his entire view.

“No,” he mumbles, turning his head away.

“Honey, time to get up,” Queenie says more soothingly, and rubs him on the back.

“Bugger off,” Newt retorts.

“Time to rise and shine!” Val shouts in his ear. Newt grabs a pillow and throws it over his head in an attempt to block her out.

“Val,” Queenie says reproachfully.

“What? I’m not coddling him, he got himself into this mess. Get his phone.”

“That’s trespassing.”

“Well, we oughta make sure it even works, apparently it was a grand idea last night to hurl it at a wall,” Val points out.

Sighing, Queenie retrieves it. “I don’t know his passcode.”

“No,” Newt grumbles. He reaches out, trying to get another pillow, and probably a soundproof, windowless room for the foreseeable future, but Val grabs his thumb ruthlessly and presses it to the home button.

“Touch ID,” she says triumphantly as she begins to scroll through his inbox.

Queenie, acting the motherly role since Val has no qualms tormenting her client, offers Newt a glass of water. “Maybe a shower will help,” she suggests gently.

Newt’s head is spinning. “I’m dying. Do you think Tina will still like me, now that I’m dead?”

“Man, these were some close calls,” Val declares. She hands the phone to a disapproving Queenie, who scans the messages and furrows her brow.

“You miss her that much, huh.”

“No. Who?” Newt’s brain is rattling around in his head, and every word uttered is like a battering ram to his skull.

“Here, have an ibuprofen.” His manager tries to remove the pillow from his head, but it isn’t budging anytime soon.

“I would if I wasn’t in agony.”

“It’ll help your headache,” she reasons with him patiently.

Newt buries his head into the mattress. “What happened last night?”

“You got _pissed,”_ Val says, grinning.

“Stop trying to be British, it really isn’t funny,” Queenie admonishes the smug agent. “Newt, you should try and get out of bed.”

“Or I could not,” he proposes helpfully.

In the end, Queenie talks Newt into sitting up while Val looks on with glee and continues talking loudly into his ear until his manager comes to his defense. A few hours later and he’s semi-dressed and capable of standing on his own.

“If you’re going for the hobo, _I just got back from a drug den_ aesthetic, then I’d say you’re right on the money,” Val tells him. Queenie frowns at her.

“Be nice, Percival.”

“What, it’s true!”

“It’s unnecessary, sweetie.”

“Don’t call me sweetie. You’re not even that much older than me.”

Newt shakes his head at their bickering. “I should text Tina and tell her I survived.”

“Now, I have a lunch planned,” Queenie says, and hoists her purse over her shoulder. She pecks Newt on the cheek. “You be safe now.”

“Yeah, I got nothing planned,” Val announces after Queenie leaves the room. “D’you want me to stay?”

Newt considers this for a moment. “I’d much rather you not.”

“Whatcha gonna do then?”

“Die again,” he answers, and flops back onto the bed.

Val stands akimbo and gazes down at him quite judgmentally. “You could FaceTime Tina.”

“Looking as though I’ve just returned from a drug den? No thank you,” Newt replies in horror. On the bedside table, his phone vibrates. “It’s Tina,” he says, eyes shut because his headache hasn’t gotten that much better. “Tell me what she said.”

“Oh, she’s breaking up with you,” Val says nonchalantly. “Said she found another guy, he’s—”

“You are a bad person,” Newt informs his agent. At least he’s come to understand her sarcasm and sense of humor, which generally revolves around torturing someone (usually Seraphina, but frequently Newt) in their dysfunctional little family.

“Love you too, bud. Nah, she said she’s glad you’re alive and asked when you’ll be back.” Val pauses; Newt opens one eye to peer at her. “When _are_ you going back? What are you gonna do from here?”

It’s a good question. Now that the movie has wrapped, Newt has potentially unlimited time with Tina. This is appealing on several levels, but also leaves a lot up in the air, such as living arrangements. He assumes at this point that he’ll stay at his own loft in Tribeca. Luckily it's close to Soho, where Tina works, and a little over half an hour from her bungalow. The police station seems safer, though, so all things considered it’s a decently convenient arrangement.

The thing is, what they were doing before, when they only had a few days together at a time, felt more like a one night stand situation: rushed and impulsive and drunk on one another. Now, if Newt settles down near Tina for at least a month before his next project, will everything change?

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Oh yeah,” Val says suddenly, glancing down at her own phone. “Broadway?”

Newt frowns. “What?”

“If you’re in, they want you for _Wild._ Mike Bartlett did it last year. Sam Gold’s directing, and rehearsals start in early September.”

There had been only vague mentions of Broadway back in the spring, and when nothing came of it Newt assumed the deal was off. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Val shrugs. “Dealing with your angst takes up a lot of my job, you know.”

“I…” Newt’s head is still pounding, which doesn’t help matters. “Sure.”

“‘I sure’. Great, that’s what I’ll tell Sam,” Val says briskly, and calls the Broadway director. Newt flops back down onto the bed; she watches him with the sort of exasperated fondness with which all of his loved ones seem to regard him. “Hey, at least you’ll get to spend time with Tina, you’ll be stuck in Manhattan until at least mid January,” she adds while the phone rings.

Newt isn’t sure whether he’s excited or nervous about that prospect. He’d been in Manhattan for over a month when he and Tina first met, but nothing had been official between them then. What does 'official' even really mean? He knows they certainly aren't boyfriend-girlfriend this early in the game. But at least feelings have been admitted and dates have been had. Now, he’s looking at a month and a half of unencumbered time in New York before rehearsals start—and Broadway, he knows, is no joke. He’s done off-Broadway enough in his earliest days to know how time-consuming and intense it is.

“Hi, Sam? Yeah, Newt said yes… well, he said ‘I sure’ but he’s pretty hungover from last night’s wrap party—” Newt hurls a throw pillow at Val, who ducks. “Anyway, poor kid can’t hold his liquor... then again, it would seem that the sole incentive of wrap parties is to get drunk, and he’s been missing his gir—” She catches herself before she can say ‘girlfriend’ and continues smoothly, “Just let us know if you need anything, I’ll be back in confinement so you know where to find me. Yes, my office. Look, if you're not gonna get my sarcasm—yep. Yup. You take care as well.”

When she hangs up, looking pleased with herself, Newt groans and reaches for his own phone.

“Have you heard much from Tina lately?” Val asks. “I mean, except for last night’s disaster.”

“I texted her back just now, but she’s busy today, Chastity said.”

“Are you really interrogating her coworkers now?”

“Just to make sure they’ve heard from her,” Newt says defensively. “It isn’t exactly a low-risk job, what she does.”

“Well, this was a good talk, but I’d recommend being a little less paranoid and taking a chill pill, I hear they’re in high demand right now.” Val waves her tumbler at him, which says ‘Bye Felicia’, and grabs her bag. “You have fun and don’t die. I assume you’re planning to leave tomorrow? You haven’t seen her in a month.”

Newt nods. He contemplated leaving tonight, but he still has to get himself together and a good night’s sleep will probably do him well. And so, once Val has left, he amuses himself for awhile reading his zoology book while looking out on the city and wondering exactly what he’s going to do in New York. Tina had mentioned a friend in Boston awhile ago, someone who could talk to him about his interest in zoology; perhaps he could find his way up there sometime before _Wild_ starts.

Seraphina lets herself into his room after a light lunch has been brought up (Newt still feels like he might vomit at any given moment; what had been _in_ those drinks?). “I thought you'd enjoy documentation of last night’s debacle,” his publicist says, and whips out her iPad Pro.

“Oh no,” Newt groans, shielding his eyes. Of course paps had gotten photos from last night. He looks like a _mess,_ and honestly bless Theseus for hanging around because he really probably would have wandered into a ditch otherwise. There are a solid dozen pictures of him stumbling into the SUV, each one more flattering (not) than the next.

Seraphina doesn't seem to know what to think, but at least she isn't mad at him. It would seem that he could commit murder and it would still be preferable for her to deal with over the Tina situation. “It was only a matter of time,” she assures Newt. He feels rather like he's the youngest brother and his mum has just been waiting for his turn to wreck the car.

Then Seraphina takes her iPad back and smiles. “Theseus said you were very passionate about Twizzlers?”

* * *

Around four o’clock, Theseus and Mary drop by Newt’s hotel en route to the airport to say goodbye before leaving for Norway.

“We’ll be in touch,” Theseus says, clapping Newt on the back. “I’ll miss you.”

Newt nods. “Thank you for everything,” he replies.

“Good luck,” Mary says kindly, and gives him a brief hug. The two of them aren’t exactly friends, but she’s still been somewhat of a staple in his life given the amount of time she spends with Theseus and, by extension, Newt. “I hope things work out for you.”

Newt smiles. “Thank you.” She probably means Tina. Everyone probably means Tina. How many people know about Tina? Far too many.

“I am always around,” Theseus reminds Newt. He gestures to his girlfriend. “Mary and I have reached the point in our relationship where I get to ignore her constantly and she’ll still like me.”

“Great,” Mary says, sighing, and gently pushes Theseus towards the door. “Bye, Newt.”

“Bye.” Newt stands in the middle of the room for a moment after the couple leaves, then pulls himself together and starts packing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I extra or am I extra? I made Polyvore sets for Newt’s team + Tina [here](https://www.polyvore.com/bending_rules/collection?id=6776388). Sorry for slow updates; I've been occupied with my new Johnlock fic and work.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you for dinner,” Newt responds. Why on earth Tina continues to thank him is baffling; she’s the one who’s been a perfect host, who’s given him a chance, and who’s proven herself to be willing, if reluctant, to take the risk and bend the rules more than a bit with him.
> 
> “Yeah, no problem. Sorry my cooking’s not exactly glamorous.”
> 
> “Any shortcomings in the food itself is more than compensated by the company,” Newt replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this gets a bit lengthy when Tina is talking about Hank and Chastity. They’re important people in Tina’s life, and Newt will eventually get adopted into their surrogate family. Use of supporting OCs is unavoidable at this point given the small number of canon characters to incorporate. Hank is pretty cool anyway.
> 
> Yes, Aubrey is based on April Ludgate/Aubrey Plaza from Parks and Rec, and yes, I absolutely unnecessarily referenced the show and will probably continue to. Fellow fans will probably recognize them.

Since Newt has to make a trek through LaGuardia, he’s sent with a bodyguard doubling as a driver. Luckily, there are no Louis Tomlinson-esque incidents at the airport and Newt only signs one autograph before plugging Tina’s address into the GPS. As the car enters Rockaway, however, he finds that he’s somehow even more nervous to see Tina now that they’re “official” (the parameters of which are still unclear) than he was when things were ambiguous. What if something has changed, and the chemistry has been lost in his absence? What if he doesn’t feel the same but she does, or vice versa? Newt’s phone lights up with a text from Val:  _ Chill, dude.  _ Not the most helpful of texts, but he’ll take it.

A few kids in Tina’s neighborhood are shouting and riding bikes in the road; they part ways dutifully to allow the car through before going down the street a bit to continue their game. It’s nice to know that they probably don’t know who he is, and if they do, they probably don’t care. 

The driver parks and turns to look at Newt expectantly. He takes a deep breath and steps out of the car to walk up to Tina’s house.

The door swings open before he can even move to ring the doorbell.

“Hello,” Newt starts, and the police officer all but flings herself at him. She glances around the street quickly, then, smiling, tugs him inside by the hand and kicks the door shut behind them. “How are—”

Evidently Tina isn't interested in pleasantries, because she kisses him instead. “Welcome back,” she says when she pulls away, arms looped around his neck. She looks tired as always, and somehow seems to have aged in the last month (according to Hank, the summer always sees a spike in crime, and Tina’s been working herself to the bone) but there’s no denying that the spark is still very much there. It’s a huge relief.

“Thank you,” Newt responds. He’s only been to the modest bungalow a few times, so it still feels a little awkward (he doesn’t spend much time frequenting any one place, other than hotel rooms), but then again he’s already slept over, which in retrospect was fairly unorthodox as well.

“D’you want anything? Water? Coffee?” Tina asks, motioning for him to come inside, then grins. “Sorry, forgot you’re British—tea, then?”

“Water is fine,” Newt answers with dignity. “Why must everyone be so fixated on the fact that I’m British?”

“I dunno, maybe it’s the accent. Seems to be one of many factors influencing—what are they called? _—_ _ Cumberbitches.” _

“No,” Newt says sternly, defending Benedict. “It is now the Cumbercollective.”

“If you say so, Newtie,” Tina returns as she comes over with two glasses of water and takes a seat opposite Newt.

_ Newtie.  _ “Did you really?” Newt asks in horror.

“I had to do  _ some _ research, I was pretty uncultured before,” Tina points out. “They call themselves Newties, huh?”

“Please don’t remind me.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Kinda like Swifties.”

“Are you now comparing me to Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah, I mean, the resemblance is uncanny. You’re signing on with Victoria’s Secret too, right?”

“Oh, by all means continue,” Newt says grandly when Tina pauses. “Here I was worrying I would not arrive here to be ruthlessly mocked.”

“I’m not ruthlessly mocking you,” Tina objects. “Just showing off the amount of devoted research I did. My internet history probably looks like a teenage girl’s,” she adds. “But okay, let’s talk about something else. How was filming?”

“I will miss everyone,” Newt admits. “You do become quite close and... emotionally intimate, with your fellow actors. Theseus was the brother I never had, and now I’ve no idea when I’ll see him next. Emily and Daveed will be around, though,” he remembers, “if you’d like to meet them.”

“Maybe.” Tina’s hesitance makes Newt cringe internally: It would seem that she is still wary of dabbling too much in the celebrity world. “That must be nice, though. Like your own little family.”

He nods. “Yes. But you have that as well, do you not? In Hank and Chastity?”

Tina shrugs. “That’s true, I guess. Maybe you’ll meet Leah sometime. She’s a real firecracker, but you couldn’t expect anything less of Hank’s daughter. His wife Marisol is way calmer and down-to-earth. It works out well.”

“And Chastity?”

Tina takes a sip of water. “She and her daughters live in an apartment in the Lower East Side. Naomi’s 18, the one I saved, and Olivia’s 14… she’s got a cardboard cutout of you. Chastity divorced her husband a year after Naomi was born.”

The topic of divorce reminds Newt that he wants to discuss his family’s history with Tina at some point. She has, after all, explained a great deal of her past, and he rather hopes that his mum might come meet her in the future. “So Chastity is a single mother?” he asks.

Tina nods. “Yeah. Honestly, for a single mom also balancing life as a cop, she’s done a damn good job. Hank and I’ve helped out a bit, but it was especially rough when Naomi was in and out of the hospital. None of us actually knew about Naomi’s situation until I called her ‘parents’ and, well… that was a bit of a shock. Chastity’s a good woman.”

“She sounds very brave,” is all Newt can come up with. 

The more he hears about all these people and the things they’ve undergone, the more he realizes he has no idea the breadth of their suffering. Phil and Kate’s divorce had been messy, but Newt was well sheltered from his father’s issues growing up and has certainly been spoiled ever since he entered stardom. Most of the stars he interacts with are in the same boat, or at the very least, healed and moved on. Chastity’s situation is ongoing.

“What about Hank?” Newt inquires next. While he knows virtually nothing about Tina’s partner, the police officer is clearly very important to Tina—as close to family as she has. 

“The whole Naomi thing made it hard for Hank,” Tina confesses ruefully. “He used to be pretty fearless and stoic but after he had Leah, he had trouble dealing with calls that involved kids and teens. She’ll be okay, though. He’s a great dad.” Tina pauses. “Leah was unplanned, but I guess when Marisol told him and asked what he wanted to do, he got down on one knee... so that worked out pretty well all around.”

“It would seem so,” Newt says lamely.

Tina doesn’t seem to mind the fact that he doesn’t have anything very profound to contribute and instead apologizes sheepishly, “Sorry, I’m not known for being much of a talker, but if you get me started on the people I care about, all bets are off.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Newt reassures her. 

Truth be told, he’s realized that at work and to most of the outside world, Tina fits her prior description of Hank: fearless and stoic. As such, moments when her eyes light up and she becomes more open—even if it’s not about herself—are not to be taken lightly. Newt never actively cared much about getting to know people better. The women he’s dated in the past have been either open books or not interesting enough for him to want to delve deeper. But Tina breaks all the rules.

Tina speaks up again as he’s contemplating this. “Anyway, are you hungry?”

Newt nods; it’s gotten late. He tries to calculate the odds of being spotted if he does step foot outside of the bungalow. All he really wants to do,  _ really,  _ is go have a normal dinner with Tina.

“We can order somewhere if you want,” Tina offers, reading Newt’s mind.

Newt hesitates.

“I know,” she says softly. “We probably shouldn’t risk it. I mean, nobody here really cares, except tourists who might not be as used to celebrities, but all it takes is one picture. Even if it’s meant innocently, you know, if it circulates, that’s a whole disaster.”

Newt knows that. But he also knows that he’s just returned home to his girlfriend(?) and he’s tired and he just wants to have a nice meal rather than feel like he’s in quarantine. “Forget it,” Newt says brashly. “Let’s just do it.”

“You’re famous, and they already saw us together that time, remember?” Tina argues.

“Seraphina dealt with that,” Newt says dismissively.

“Well, she shouldn’t have to deal with it again.” Tina’s voice has a slight edge to it now, which is starting to make Newt feel bad. “Ask Seraphina.”

Newt shakes his head. “She will say no.”

“Which is the point.”

“Fine.” Defiantly, Newt takes out his phone and calls his publicist.

“What happened?” Seraphina asks on the first ring.

“I was only wondering if you think I could go out to dinner with Tina.”

A pause. Then, “That is a genuinely stupid proposition and you know it.”

“It’s tourist season, there are a lot of people around and it will be dark soon,” Newt makes his very weak case.

“No. You are not going out. We are unprepared and many people come to New York in the hopes of spotting celebrities such as yourself. If other actors happen to be dining there, which they very well might be, paparazzi will likely be present as well. No.”

“Fine,” Newt snaps, and hangs up.

“See,” Tina starts, but he’s already dialed Val.

“No,” Val says instantly. “Sorry, bro.”

“What?”

“Seraphina texted me. No. That is a horrible decision. Don’t be an idiot. Seriously, one post on social media or one fan is enough to start a whole fiasco.” 

Newt’s taken fan photos before, and there are plenty of older fans who are genuinely appreciative and respectful. He reminds Val of this. “Tina would not have to be in the picture. I have nothing against my calmer fans.”

“None of us are prepared for it, Seraphina’s got a date with Lewis the Engineer, and I’m seriously behind on  _ Law & Order.  _ Give it a rest until we can talk. It isn’t impossible, okay? Just not tonight.”

“I don’t suppose it’s worth calling Queenie?” Newt asks, truly grasping at straws now.

“You’ve gotten two out of three no’s, buddy. Let it go.”

Newt sighs in defeat. “Right,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Val apologizes. She sounds genuinely pained. “Just… enjoy yourselves. We can talk later.”

“She said it isn’t impossible,” Tina tells Newt bracingly when he hangs up.

“It should be possible,” he says fiercely. “It should always be possible.”

“It’s fine. We can order food and watch a movie or something.”

They do just that, and Newt goes back to his loft at half past midnight. It may not be ideal, but, as he thinks back to how much fun he had just _being_  with Tina, he can live with it.

* * *

 

Seeing Newt again makes Tina feel like a teenage girl with a crush, which she isn’t sure she’s comfortable with. She  _ definitely _ hadn’t been prancing around the bungalow nervously awaiting his arrival, or checked her hair every ten minutes and changed outfits about twenty times.

She’s glad that they’ve been talking like a normal couple. Dating has been difficult in the past, given her hectic schedule and slightly remote location, and Chastity always pointed out that the only way a relationship will work for Tina is if her significant other understands having such a busy life. Newt certainly does.

It seemed an unspoken agreement between the two of them that Newt should go home at the end of the evening. Even though they have yet to have The Talk—which Tina knows will have to happen eventually—it would appear that at the very least they’re both on the same page when it comes to the pace of their relationship. Newt is back indefinitely, even once he starts  _ Wild,  _ and there’s no reason for them not to take their time.  None of Tina’s old flames had been very sustainable for precisely that reason: she was so busy that every time they met there was pressure to move the relationship along and hit all the milestones, even if five months in they’d only really had four dates.

“Soooo,” Chastity says when she calls Tina  _ at one in the morning,  _ “how did it go?”

“It was good,” Tina says, fighting back a smile. “I like him a lot.”

“Well,  _ that _ much was apparent. He went home?”

“Yeah.”

“Good man.”

“I’m 28, not 8,” Tina reminds Chastity. "I don't need chaperones."

“I still have two decades on you. Forgive me for being protective.”

Tina sighs. “Whatever. I’m beat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“He said he enjoyed himself.”

“Why are you talking to him?”

Chastity shrugs. “It’s the first time I’ve gotten the chance to vet and intimidate your boyfriends.”

“No one gave you permission.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Oh my god,” Tina groans. “Good _ night.” _

“Night, Teen.”

* * *

Newt gets coffee with his  _ Wild  _ costar a few days after he arrives in Manhattan. Aubrey Ludgate is a deadpan and apathetic 29-year-old whom he considers to be one of the strangest people he’s ever met. She’s a brilliant actress, but doesn’t exude much warmth (or any at all). In fact, the majority of their meeting is spent with her staring at him in an extremely judgmental and disconcerting manner. 

They go to a smallish café in a half-hearted attempt to keep a low profile; as expected, photos are quickly published. Luckily, everyone’s taken care to advertise Newt and Aubrey’s involvement in  _ Wild,  _ so dating rumors only inevitably pop up in the Tumblr fandom. (Apparently #neta is dead, and #naubrey is the newest thing. Seraphina has never given much heed to Tumblr, deeming hysterical 14-year-old girls as bearing no weight in her client’s image, so at the very least no PR disasters result from their first meeting.)

“So, how did you hear about the part?” Newt asks conversationally once Aubrey has introduced herself, ordered a triple espresso, and fallen completely silent.

She eyes him over the rim of her cup. “A 28 foot tall lizard-god savior called Zorp came down to earth and offered it to me.”

What is he supposed to say to that? “Erm...”

“I have an agent too,” Aubrey points out. “Who gets me jobs. And things like that.”

“Oh. I didn’t know if...” Newt feels like whatever he says, he’s going to sound very stupid, so he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“So,” Aubrey says after raising an eyebrow at him. She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms and legs. “I didn't know who you were. I guess you're some big deal?”

Newt blinks. “I... well, not a  _ big _ deal, it’s only that I...” How to phrase this without sounding cocky?

Aubrey watches him struggle for a moment before saying blandly, “Yeah, Oscar, whatever.” 

“Right. I do think your work is quite good,” Newt adds in an attempt to  _ not _ seem like a pompous asshole. Instead, it comes off incredibly condescending.

“I’m so glad the esteemed Newt Scamander thinks my acting is okay,” Aubrey comments flatly.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Newt says hastily.

“Okay.” Aubrey abruptly stands up to leave, taking the café’s cup with her. “Well, this should be fun,” she tells him before shutting the door.

* * *

 

Later, once Newt is back at Tina’s, Val calls to ask how the meeting went. “Disastrous,” he groans, and details their uncomfortable interaction.

Val laughs. “She loved you.”

He stops still. “What?”

“Yeah, she asked if you thought she hated you, and I said knowing you, yes, and she said ‘good’ and hung up.”

“Sorry, but how exactly does that imply that she likes me?” Newt asks.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” Tina yells from the kitchen.

“Aw, is your missus calling?” Val teases.

“Shut it,” Newt retorts, then, “and you’re certain she likes me?”

“Aubrey’s an interesting chick, to be honest. She’s bizarre and crazy talented. Which I’m sure you’ve realized.”

“Yes, and I came off sounding like a complete prat in the process.”

Val scoffs. “Anyway, you run along and have dinner with your girlfriend. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Bye,” Newt says, then walks into the kitchen. Tina, who is pouring pasta into a colander, nods to the plates on the counter.

“Help yourself, sauce is in the saucepan.” She’s made spaghetti bolognese in a burst of motivation to try and do the cooking thing. Newt was initially concerned about the meat aspect, knowing that Tina’s Jewish, but given that her family—like many in this day and age—was mostly secular to begin with, they only half-heartedly kept kosher at home when she was a child and didn’t mind what she did outside of the house. By the time they died, Tina had been too focused on her police work and trying to get her life together as a mostly independent young woman to keep kosher anymore. She admitted sheepishly that she really hadn’t celebrated any holidays in years, except Thanksgiving and Christmas—if exchanging Christmas presents at work and then watching  _ Love Actually  _ alone in a snuggie counted as celebrating.

“This looks excellent,” Newt comments presently.

Tina glances over and smiles at him, face slightly flushed from the steam, and she looks very very adorable. However, such a comment would likely be unwelcome, so Newt doesn’t say anything. They have an easy, fun dinner with ice cream for dessert eaten out of the carton, and once again Newt heads home, knowing that Tina’s tired and he’s starting to fade as well.

“Thanks for everything,” Tina says unexpectedly at the door.

“Thank you for dinner,” Newt responds. Why on earth Tina continues to thank  _ him _ is baffling;  _ she’s  _ the one who’s been a perfect host, who’s given him a chance, and who’s proven herself to be willing, if reluctant, to take the risk and bend the rules more than a bit with him.

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry my cooking’s not exactly glamorous.”

“Any shortcomings in the food itself is more than compensated by the company,” Newt replies.

Tina doesn’t seem to know what to say. Newt isn’t typically the romantic type, but according to Val and Chastity his fumbling honesty often comes off rather ‘mushy’. Chastity in particular has warned him that ‘Tina’s got walls’ (whatever that means) and not to take it personally if and when she balks a little in the face of affection. Either way, Newt’s more than happy to wait as long as it takes. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Tina says after a beat, and kisses him goodbye.

Newt gives her a hug before stepping back and getting into his car. There, he sits in the driver’s seat for a long moment, because he’s honestly being ridiculous and acting like the very men he’s portrayed in his more chick-flick-y films. Those storylines and relationships still strike him as shallow and absurd and trite, but regardless, Newt starting to suspect they may hold just a grain of truth.

* * *

 

Tina goes to work the next day in an incredibly good mood. As they’re driving to a suspected burglary, Hank eyes her and says, “So things are good with Newt?”

“I think so.”

“If he hurts you, I’ll hurt him, just to get that speech out of the way.”

“Oh god,” Tina realizes, “have you told him that?”

“I wouldn’t be doing my job as your dedicated partner if I hadn’t.”

“That doesn’t extend to personal relationships, and you  _ know _ that.” Tina shakes her head in exasperation. “Leah’s gonna have a great time when she gets old enough to date.”

“Nah, Leah won’t date,” Hank says dismissively.

Tina laughs. “Sure.”

“No, I’m not kidding. I am not going to discuss my 10-year-old daughter’s future love life,  _ which she won’t have,  _ because men are dicks.”

“Thanks. That’s really supportive of me and Newt.”

Hank scoffs. “You’re not my daughter, you can do what you want.”

“Then you shouldn’t be interfering.”

They arrive at the scene of the crime. “It’s in the rules of policing that I have to do  _ something,”  _ Hank says as he steps out of the cruiser.

“It’s so not,” Tina retorts, and grabs the keys from the ignition.

“Subtext,” Hank replies, and together they get down to business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I’ve realized that this fic is probably going to be quite lengthy (I’ve plotted it, and it will most likely cover an entire year, if not more), though I may truncate it at some point and switch to a sequel instead. Then again, my friend is reading an ongoing fanfiction that’s at 154 chapters and has plenty of still interested readers.


	10. Faceclaims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Val - Anna Akana  
> Hank - Jamie Dornan  
> Chastity - Taraji P. Henson  
> Theseus - Domhnall Gleeson  
> Aubrey - Aubrey Plaza  
> Emily - Sarah Bolger  
> Modesty - Hannah Murray  
> Kate - Julianne Moore  
> Phil - Hugh Laurie  
> Poppy - Rose Leslie  
> Leah - McKenna Grace  
> Marisol (who we have yet to meet) - Allison Mack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there are a lot of OCs, I thought I would post faceclaims of them. Of course, these are just my ideas, and you should absolutely feel free to visualize the characters however you would like to - I cannot emphasize that enough. I don't want to limit your own imagination if you had a completely different image in mind.

A quick note:

Fun fact, my alternative FC for Chastity was Jennifer Aniston (in that case, her daughters were G. Hannelius and Kiernan Shipka). I couldn’t find one for Val for the longest time, but a lovely reader suggested Anna.

Please definitely comment if you have other ideas for the characters' potential faceclaims! I won't be offended, and I'd love to see what you all visualized.

  **Val Graves, 30: Anna Akana**

****

****

*I know she looks young, but many Asians do (my best friend, who's Chinese, is 21 and people think she's 15); Anna is 27 herself.

* * *

**Hank Emerson, 36: Jamie Dornan**

****

* * *

**Chastity Murray, 48: Taraji P. Henson**

****

* * *

**Theseus Fido, 34: Domhnall Gleeson**

****

* * *

**Aubrey Ludgate, 29: Aubrey Plaza**

****

* * *

**Emily McNeale, 28: Sarah Bolger**

* * *

**Modesty Wood-Blagrove, 21: Hannah Murray**

* * *

**Kate Prendergrast, 52: Julianne Moore**

* * *

**Phil Scamander, 50: Hugh Laurie**

* * *

**Poppy Wesley-Scamander, 29: Rose Leslie**

****

*She isn’t related to Newt by blood, so the similar hair and eye colors are coincidental. I just really liked Rose for Poppy’s faceclaim!

* * *

**Leah Emerson, 10: McKenna Grace**

****

* * *

**Marisol Emerson, 36: Allison Mack**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are now on a weekly schedule (new chapters every Thursday), so the actual chapter 10 will be posted then.


	11. I'd spend the rest of my life just standing here talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something compels Newt to tug Tina towards him, spinning her smoothly into his arms, and kiss her in full view of the ocean’s expanse and a full vermilion sun. It seems almost too picturesque to be reality and were he observing from an outsider's perspective he would probably be wrinkling up his nose. But Tina is irresistibly warm and surprisingly funny and admirably brave, and Newt wants to experience it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some very gratuitous fluff and lots of introspection on Newt's part.

_ We watched the sun go down as we were walking _

_ I'd spend the rest of my life just standing here talking _

_ You would explain the current as I just smile _

_ Hoping that you'll stay the same and nothing will change _

**~*~**

Val has already had a pretty bad day. From running out of gas to leaving her credit card at home, life seems to have officially pitted itself against her. And it doesn’t help when she sees a certain someone’s recent engagement celebrated during one of Taylor Swift’s squad get-togethers. Taylor is a sweet girl, but her choice of friends is questionable at times, if you ask Val. 

Or maybe she’s just bitter.

Either way, the day after Newt’s call from Rockaway, his team holds a strategy session about Manhattan, disregarding Tina for the time being. It’s all fairly straightforward: they’ll probably drop by Manhattan occasionally to catch up (for her part, Val is heading back to her office soon), and Newt will hopefully stay out of trouble in the interim before Broadway starts. Once that happens, he should be suitably occupied and with any luck, no debacles will result.

Seraphina and Queenie are headed for the door as soon as the meeting concludes when Val clears her throat.

“We have to talk about Tina,” she says sharply. “We can’t just ignore the fact that Newt’s gonna keep seeing her, probably even while he’s rehearsing.”

Seraphina glares imperiously at her. “No,” she replies coolly.

“Sera...” Queenie says hesitantly.

“You are not even involved,” Seraphina tells Val.

Val crosses her arms. “Really?”

Seraphina’s eyes flash. “I hate to break it to you, Percival, but an agent does not operate at the same level as a publicist and manager. You are acting as though you are his manager. Your job is to find jobs. That is all. As it is, you have invited yourself to a number of meetings that are entirely irrelevant to your job description.” 

“Oh, come on, Sera,” Queenie protests. “Give her a break.”

Seraphina turns to the manager. “Like she has given  _ me _ a break?”

“I haven’t done anything to you!” Val objects.

Seraphina turns back to Val and says fiercely, “In endorsing this Newt and Tina situation, you have more than doubled my work and stress.”

“God forbid I make  _ you  _ do  _ your _ job,” Val snaps.

Seraphina shakes her head. “This is absurd. If we had stopped Newton from seeing Tina in the first place—”

“That’s enough, Seraphina,” Queenie cuts in. “It ain’t fair of us to block him from seeing someone he likes just ‘cause it’s bad for his reputation. Anyway, it’s obvious  _ that _ ship has sailed.”

Seraphina falls silent. Then she confesses in a low voice, “I do not want to see him get hurt. Until now, we have given the seal of approval for every young star he chose to cavort with. I have had hardly any work to do, and he has suffered no emotional damage as a result.”

That’s when it starts to click for Val, who looks at an unsurprised but pained Queenie and then back at Newt’s publicist, gaping in delight. “Awww, you  _ care _ about him!” she professes.

Seraphina appears supremely uncomfortable. “No,” she falters.

“No, no, that’s cute,” Val continues, grinning. This is a lot better than she thought. It isn’t that Seraphina doesn’t have a heart; it’s that she does, and she’s scared because she doesn’t know how to manage the feelings aspect if her client gets his heart broken. Queenie stomps warningly on Val’s foot under the table.

“Do not mock me,” Seraphina requests coldly. That engineer guy Lewis is  _ perfect _ for her. Val’s only semi-stalked him on Facebook and introduced herself briefly when he dropped Seraphina off at the office once, but from what Queenie has disclosed to her she gathers he’s a sensitive, intelligent young man who tempers Seraphina’s iciness. Maybe he’ll even make Seraphina a little nicer to a certain suffering martyr of an agent.

“Jeez, I’m not mocking you, relax,” Val responds placatingly. “But if you care so much about Newt, you gotta think about the flip side. Maybe this’ll make him really happy, right?”

Seraphina isn't backing down. “And what of Tina? Her profession is not one that is to be taken lightly. Makeup artists, journalists, baristas, business owners, designers, even teachers, fine. But law enforcement and celebrity do not mix. Have you not considered what might happen to the NYPD? They could be mobbed and interrogated, Tina might be followed around on duty...”

“We can deal with that when it happens!” Val says in frustration. “We’ve had this conversation a million and one times, and frankly at this point, with all due respect, you need to put up or shut up, and you can’t put up without causing a lot of shit, so you’re stuck with the latter! Newt’s going to be with Tina, and it’s our job as his team and as people who  _ care _ about him, to deal with his idiotic decisions. The novelty of their relationship will wear off anyway.”

Seraphina cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? I’m not sure what rock you have clambered out from under, but once you are an object of media attention, it is not easily shaken.”

“And from what I know, Tina’s not much for attention as it is,” Queenie interjects. “I’m not siding with either of you, I think Newt’s gotta do what he’s gotta do, but in Seraphina’s defense, we oughta take Tina’s feelings into consideration as well.”

Val throws her arms in the air. “Her feelings are that she likes him! That’s all!” It begins to occur to her, as she clenches her fists, that this is not about Newt and Tina anymore.

That damn manager is all too perceptive. “Why are you so defensive of them?” Queenie queries gently.

“Maybe because I was in a relationship with a celebrity that fell apart because it ‘wasn’t a good idea,’” Val retorts heatedly before she can stop herself. “It would’ve worked, we both knew it, but you goddamn  _ publicists _ have to  _ ruin _ it—”

“You are an agent, there is no reason why you should not have...” Seraphina falls silent at the look on Queenie’s face. “I am sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Val mutters. She’s tired and now rather embarrassed at admitting to her own relationship failures. It was more complicated than that. “It’s just, I hated keeping it a secret and sneaking around like Newt and Tina are. So I’m  _ begging _ you to open your narrow mind and  _ give them a shot.” _

Seraphina pauses. “We will see where it goes,” she allows finally. “I will not bother Newton while he is with Tina.”

Val groans in frustration. “Look, if he  _ intentionally  _ goes public with Tina and we orchestrate it, it’ll be easier, we’ll be prepared, we can have a plan of attack. We can get them security.”

“Newt doesn’t want security,” Queenie says quietly but firmly, with the air of a mother advocating for her child.

This is more than enough professional discourse for one day, so Val forcefully ends the conversation there. “I'll talk to you later,” she grumbles, grabbing her keys. Behind her, Seraphina and Queenie exchange glances. 

“Honey...” Queenie begins. “If you want to talk about—”

“Save it,” Val snaps, and slams the door.

* * *

Newt hates it, but his team insists that if he beef up his security. Whereas before, he was perfectly fine moving about New York in disguise or amongst local New Yorkers who could care less, his ‘Newtie’ army knows that he's headed to Broadway now, and it takes less than a week for him to get mobbed and interrogated by paps once again about his love life. Really, the efforts to which they will go for a good story is astounding. Newt could recite their questions in his sleep at this point. Linking him with people he’s never met, questioning his sexuality, accusing him of having a secret girlfriend, and, occasionally,  _ still _ wanting details on his fallout with Leta.

“You can't just ask your girlfriend to come save you,” Val says harshly, when he points out that Tina was effective before at handling the situation. “Police officers have a duty to the public. Bodyguards have a duty to you, as a celebrity, whose body they are guarding.”

Newt gives in and reluctantly hires a one-size-fits-all bodyguard in lieu of setting up elaborate security at his loft and relying on multiple others at his beck and call to protect him. Shawn McLean was recommended to Seraphina. Despite disliking security in general, Newt is a fan of Shawn; the 38-year-old, who reminds him of Hank, takes on driving and planning duties as well, and seems trustworthy. 

While it’s in their job descriptions for bodyguards to ask no questions and reveal no secrets, Newt was never comfortable with the rigid wall of professionalism that seemed to exist between himself and security. Some celebrities, particularly young female ones, are accustomed to and even like having bodyguards. Perhaps it’s because he was admittedly a bit of a mummy’s boy growing up, but Newt still feels awkward asking someone to drive him places without telling them why he’s there or whom he’s seeing.

“It’s none of their _business_ what you’re doing, oh my god,” is Val’s response when he brings this up during an office visit. 

“I just feel it’s the polite thing to do,” Newt argues.

Val is officially back from California and getting caught up at her overflowing desk, wading through large stacks of editorials, scripts, and letters. Newt doesn’t know  _ exactly _ what she does, but apparently it involves constant meetings, wining and dining, and making loud phone calls. Typically, agents like her have multiple clients; however, given that she’s new and that Newt is an A-list celebrity who gets “a shitton of junkmail” for her to sort daily—and, accordingly, a "shitton of networking" to do as well—she has her hands full. Not to mention the psychological toll Val claims the job takes on her, thanks to Newt’s dramas.

Admittedly, the fact that he and Tina have to be covert makes it incredibly difficult to go on the sort of fun outings normal couples do in the summer. Sneaking out for a quiet lunch is one thing, but even though Rockaway beaches are ideal for spending time with a significant other, Newt and Tina can't risk it.

Instead, Newt grits his teeth and takes advantage of his privilege yet again. The second week he’s back, he oh so casually gets a plane and flies Tina a little off the coast to a small private island for a day trip. He knows that she's the last person to be awed or excited by such extravagant planning, but he also knows she understands he isn’t attempting to show off or impress her. Plus, once they get there it's impossible to remain uncomfortable. The other residents are used to celebrities and guaranteed not to take pictures or pay either of them any mind. 

Newt and Tina go swimming, eat ice cream, read on the beach, and have a lovely dinner at a rustic restaurant, sitting on a wooden back patio looking out on the water as the sun sets over it. It’s a welcome respite and Tina falls asleep on Newt’s shoulder during the flight home.

The awkwardness from the beginning of their relationship slips away the more time they spend together (even though, save for the island, it's mostly spent at her bungalow or the police station) to the point where Newt feels as comfortable with her as he is with Emily and Theseus. This is saying something, given the amount of time and somewhat forced bonding that those friendships took to develop, and the fact that Newt was obviously never interested in them.

He is  _ very  _ interested in Tina. 

When Newt explains Phil and Kate's tumultuous relationship while consuming microwave-made s'mores and inventing constellations on Tina’s back porch, he’s relieved to discover that she’s empathetic. Not that he thought she might judge him, but he’s always somewhat worried she might dismiss his ‘struggles’ and think him vain or superficial for talking about them.

“I guess I was lucky my parents had a solid relationship,” Tina says thoughtfully, then kisses Newt on the cheek. “Divorce is hard. I’ve only seen it from Chastity’s perspective... I can’t imagine what it’d be like as the kid. Sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s alright,” Newt replies honestly, “it’s only my past.” 

_ And you’re my future.  _

He doesn’t say it, but Tina seems to get what he means. A childish part of him was always holding onto his family’s past, because he had no people and no relationships in the present to focus on instead. Now, in everyone he’s met, and most particularly Tina, he does.

* * *

Most police work five eight hour shifts a week; Tina has been almost consistently working overtime. However, once they acquire a new cop in their precinct she (reluctantly) cuts down her hours, providing her the two free days a week that’s typical for most not-overly-ambitious officers.

Chastity has a big laugh when Newt drops a comment implying that she essentially runs the entire NYPD. “Nah, I’m just a sergeant,” she tells him, still laughing, “but I still get to boss Tina around, so it’s fine.”

“Oh,” Newt says, looking mildly embarrassed. 

“It’s fine, people used to think I was my sister’s mom because I bossed her around so much.” Chastity beams. “What can I say, I’ve got a maternal instinct.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Tina grumbles.

“You’re welcome,” Chastity sings, and pecks Tina on the cheek before standing to leave. “Hey, I’ve raised you for the past eight years, young lady.” 

“I’m twenty-eight, you know!” Tina calls after her. She turns back to Newt, shaking her head. “Welcome to the NYPD.”

* * *

There have been stories of leering paparazzi with telephoto lenses capturing pictures of celebrities from miles away, but chances of that happening are low enough that Newt’s team okays a private boat ride to a nearby beach on Tina’s next day off. Shawn accompanies, in addition to a small crew. Newt and Tina eat homemade sandwiches and chips (Tina, grinning, calls them ‘crisps’, and Newt rolls his eyes) for lunch. Tina’s short hair is tousled by the wind, cheeks slightly flushed, and her squinting her eyes against the sea salt spray is the cutest thing Newt thinks he’s ever seen. His own curls get even curlier, which he doesn’t particularly like, but then Tina comments on it and runs her fingers through his hair and kisses him on the bow of the ship and he’s suddenly very okay with it all.

Once arrived, they walk along the beach hand-in-hand, chatting amicably. Newt begrudgingly admits that he’s starting to see the validity of certain romantic tropes, including the romantic beach walk scene he's acted a million times. The water here is exceptionally cold, so swimming was not in the plans, but when Tina ‘accidentally’ bumps into Newt, causing him to find himself ankle-deep in frigid water, revenge must be had.

“You’re the worst!” Tina yowls when he yanks her in as well.

“That was very unprofessional of you, Officer Goldstein,” Newt retorts.

In response, she splashes him right in the face. When he manages to wipe salt water out of his eyes and sees her standing there giggling at him, he grabs her around the waist and spins her around. She struggles, yelling, “Put me down!” but she’s grinning and relaxed like he hasn’t seen her before. They end up frolicking in the ocean, splashing one another and laughing until their extremities go numb and they’re completely soaked and positively giddy (though the effect is somewhat dampened by the aforementioned frigid water).

“This was a horrible idea,” Tina declares, teeth chattering as they wade back to shore.

“So sorry,” Newt apologizes.

She casts him a mischievous sort of sidelong glance. “No you’re not.”

He shrugs and takes her hand. “Maybe a little. Come on, there are towels on the boat.”

It’s quite hot outside of the water, and it doesn’t take long for them to dry off. Like the nerds they are, they spend the next few hours reading—Tina a bestseller on criminal justice, Newt the autographed book Tina had given him—on the sand, Newt’s arm around Tina’s shoulders.  He decides to take full advantage of the situation, leaning over and kissing Tina when he catches her pausing and looking over at him. 

It's the first time, he thinks later, that someone has looked at him like that. It's not fabricated and just shy of genuine for the camera; there's no hint of superficiality or greed. Tina looks at him, in short, like she's proud of him, like she likes him for  _ him _ and not for his status. She sees Newt for who he is beyond whatever fronts he's been forced to put on over the years. In her mind, they're equals. It's everything Newt never realized he needed.

Later, the couple enjoy cold drinks and snacks and end up building sandcastles.  “You should’ve become a professional sandcastle builder,” Tina comments dryly: Newt’s sandcastle looks far better than hers. “I hear it’s way more profitable than what you’re doing now.”

“I had not heretofore considered it, but seeing as I’ve discovered such a rare gift, I daresay I ought to call Val first thing and inquire about a career change. Though I would hate to be yet another British actor turned sandcastle extraordinaire," Newt replies.

“We’re ridiculous,” Tina says.

“You certainly are,” Newt agrees impishly. Tina shoves him into the sand.

* * *

“Whoa, the sun’s setting,” Tina speaks up when the afternoon becomes evening far too soon and the tide is at its peak, leaving only a small strip of beach behind. She has an early shift tomorrow, so the two of them reluctantly pack up.

“One last walk?” Newt suggests.

Tina takes his hand and beams in a way that can only be described as ‘radiant’. “I always wondered about the current,” she says thoughtfully as they make their way down the narrow shoreline.

Newt looks over at her. “What about it?”

She shrugs, squinting into the distance. “I don’t know. I used to spend a lot of time by the water, and it just... seemed to have a life of its own. It wanted what it wanted, and most of the time it was calm, but I liked it the most when we went to rivers with faster currents.”

“Why’s that?” Newt asks.

Tina frowns. “I don’t really like slowing down, I guess.”

“Slowing down can be nice, though,” Newt points out. “Right?”

Tina smiles, looking down at her feet. “Yeah, if you have the right person to slow down with, I guess.” She pauses. “Thanks for doing all of this.”

“Of course.” Both of their lives can certainly become blurs: once Newt starts Broadway, slowing down won’t be an option. And Tina is constantly, ceaselessly going, at her job. This grace period feels like the calm before the storm in a vaguely foreboding way, but Newt doesn’t care. Truthfully, as long as he’s with Tina, he’s just fine.

Friendship was never very important to Newt, growing up. He was so focused on his music and theater and acting that he disregarded socializing, and once he entered the business he was overwhelmed by the number of people constantly interacting with him and didn’t go out of his way to develop meaningful friendships.  Emily said once that it was more important to her that she was best friends with Daveed than that they were in love. Newt didn’t pay it much mind, but now he sees what she means. He and Leta weren’t real friends before they dated, nor were he and any of his previous flames. The chemistry may have been there, but the friendship was not. That, more than anything, was likely their downfall.

Newt thinks he’s found a friend, in Tina. Someone he can laugh with, and relax around, and talk to about his day. There are awkward moments, and in light of how much time they’ve spent together recently he’s fairly certain there's been some barely avoided friction. Nevertheless, he hopes very much that they’ll be friends—best friends, someday—first and foremost, as their relationship (with any luck) continues.

“Look at the sunset,” Tina says, pointing to the horizon. “It’s beautiful.”

Newt bites back the automatic,  _ So are you. _

Tina glances over and grins at him. “Go on, say it.”

“Hmm?” he asks innocently.

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you’re above cheesy pickup lines. I walked right into that one, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were fishing for compliments,” Newt teases her.

“Shut up,” Tina says good-naturedly.

Something compels Newt to tug Tina towards him, spinning her smoothly into his arms, and kiss her in full view of the ocean’s expanse and a full vermilion sun. It seems almost too picturesque to be reality and were he observing from an outsider's perspective he would probably be wrinkling up his nose. But Tina is irresistibly warm and surprisingly funny and admirably brave, and Newt wants to experience it all.

“Never,” he says when they break apart only slightly, his arms still looped around her waist.

“Sure,” Tina responds. She gazes at him, then runs her thumb gently over his jawline. “We should really go, though. If you’re done being cliché.”

Newt swings their joined hands between them as they head back to the boat. “It is my goal, you know, to perpetuate every Hollywood cliché in the book. I thought that should be made clear.”

“I expected nothing less,” Tina answers. Newt braces himself for an edge in her voice, as he does every time he says anything alluding to his celebrity. This time, it doesn’t come. 

Tina once again dozes off on the ride home, fingers tangling in Newt’s shirt, which gives Newt a moment to reflect on... what, exactly?

_ You know what.  _

He and Tina have been dating for four months now. They've moved both slowly and quickly, but since he's returned they've spent far more time together than is typical of most couples, thanks to Newt’s open schedule. However, once a relationship goes public, it's inevitably put under scrutiny and ruthlessly criticized. Their relationship needs to be solid if it's going to sustain that. And to have some messy breakup soon after baring themselves to the world would be an incalculable disaster. 

Granted, Newt prays they won't. But he's realistic and knows the risks—has witnessed them all too often—involved with exposing a romantic relationship like that.  _ Especially  _ when it's with a police officer, someone without a management team or a history in the business or secondhand experience with PR nightmares. It's stressful enough to deal with that level of attention as a seasoned professional.

Newt isn't concerned for himself. Tina, though... her career could legitimately be at stake if there's a media circus, especially if they're exposed rather than voluntarily announced. People might flood the station, follow Tina around on duty, and make it impossible for her to do her job. Nobody wants that. Tina is uncomfortable in the spotlight as it is, and Newt hates that he brings that upon her. 

Every so often, a little voice in the back of his head raises the real question: Is it worth it? All the hiding, stress, risks... is it really worth it, for some random police officer from Manhattan?

Tina stirs slightly next to Newt. “Hey,” she says sleepily, opening her eyes to look up at him. “Thanks.”

He quirks the corner of his mouth. “You are very welcome.”

“Sorry, I'm exhausted.”

Newt shakes his head and pulls her closer. “It's quite alright.”

“Mmkay,” she yawns, then shuts her eyes again.

The answer hits Newt as he watches Tina curl up against his chest, already so much less reserved around him than she was when they first started dating.

It's worth it. Newt has never been surer of anything in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow the other events I had planned for this chapter got bumped two chapters down the road. I just keep writing more than I intended to. Anyway, chapter 11 is already shaping up well, and includes the two of them finally having 'the talk' so we have that to look forward to. Thanks for commenting, leaving kudos, etc.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thanks,” she mumbles. “You're a good boyfriend.”
> 
> Stupidly, Newt blurts out in surprise, “Boyfriend?” He’s taken aback, but instantly realizes how it came across and cringes.
> 
> “Sorry,” Tina apologizes, sitting up abruptly and looking embarrassed. 
> 
> “Please stop apologizing. I... actually wanted to, er... talk about it.”
> 
> She frowns. “About what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just slightly rushed and I'll make edits later as usual, but I wanted to stick to my promised posting schedule. I've estimated now that there will be 60-70 chapters and a sequel.
> 
> Couldn't find a song and I'm in a rush so I'll fill that in later.
> 
> As a reminder, Poppy is Newt’s step-sister, who’s also his age. Someone please draw fanart of Newt opening the paper lunch bag though.

 

Tina is happy. It wouldn’t seem a remarkable statement, except that it is.

She’s never been an  _ unhappy _ person. She’s been satisfied and content with her life—just never actively happy. Chastity always insisted that Tina was missing a partner, whether that be a best friend or significant other. Tina dismissed this, as she dismisses most of the sergeant’s know-it-all claims. However, now that Newt is in her life, Tina finds that she has more energy and, frankly, more  _ fun,  _ in all areas of her life. Not that dealing with horrible situations and playing the bad cop is especially enjoyable. There’s just a certain element there, something about being in this relationship, that brings out a spark she didn’t know was in her. It’s a subtle shift noticed only by those who know her well.

(As a side note, wet-shirt-curly-hair-sandcastle-building-laughing-in-the-sunset Newt is officially her kryptonite.)

Tina tries consciously to pace herself with Newt. It won’t do to rush into anything, or to be impulsive—and Tina Goldstein is anything  _ but _ impulsive. Regardless of self-restraint, they seem to gravitate towards one another, and without meaning to, she realizes she’s spending most of her free time with Newt.

“Instead of what, Netflix and Ben and Jerry’s?” Chastity says when Tina mentions this during a quick sandwich run.

“Hey,” Tina protests. “I have a life.”

Chastity shakes her head sagely. “Not much of it, until now.”

“I’ve worked overtime for the past five years, at least,” Tina argues.

“Work is different. Work is only a part of your life. There’s a reason I’ve always yelled at you for never going out or even  _ getting enough sleep.  _ Newt’s good for you.” Chastity pauses and gestures with a pickle spear. “If he breaks your heart, of course, he’s got hell coming to him.”

“He’s not going to!”

Chastity frowns critically. “I still don’t fully trust him.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Tina crumples up her sandwich wrapper and tosses it into the trash.

“My point is, as long as the two of you don’t get unhealthily obsessed with one another—which I don’t think you will, and I really hope you don’t because Naomi’s been dealing with a clingy boyfriend for the past three months and my head is going to pop off—there’s nothing wrong with spending a lot of time with someone.”

“How’s Naomi doing, by the way? And Liv?” Tina thinks to ask.

“I know you’re trying to change the subject, young lady,” Chastity says, but in true motherly form she could talk about Naomi and Olivia for hours, so she does.

* * *

Newt shows up at the station, waiting for Tina to be done with her shift, and runs into Chastity, who he’s pretty sure lives at the precinct.

“Hi there,” the sergeant says cheerfully, shuffling a pile of papers before sweeping them gracefully into the recycling bin. “Waiting for your girlfriend?”

“Er... yes,” Newt replies. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Chastity could read minds, because she scrutinizes him for a moment before leaning forward, elbows resting on the desk, and asks, “Have you had the talk?”

“What talk?”

“Labels. Boyfriend-girlfriend.”

_ The talk.  _ It has a name? Come to think of it, Val had said the same thing. “Not yet.”

Chastity raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be her boyfriend?”

“Well, yes, of course. It... takes time.”

“I can’t help you there, but I  _ can _ tell you that Tina’s never been as happy as she’s been since meeting you, in all my years of knowing her.”

Newt feels himself blush. “That’s... nice,” he mumbles.

Chastity scoffs. “Really? You’re gonna play the bashful schoolboy card? Take the compliment. You two are good together.”

“Thanks,” Newt says.

“So,” Chastity starts, “what are you gonna do for her birthday?”

“Her—what?” Newt says in alarm.

“Birthday. August 19? Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I—I didn’t know,” Newt stammers.

“Now you do! Nothing too extravagant, this is Teenie we’re talking about,” Chastity reminds him. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”

Because that doesn't put any pressure on him at all.

* * *

Modesty and her parents invite Newt over the following day. Being aware of boundaries and bearing in mind their “scandal”, Newt is reasonably hesitant to overstep his bounds. He and Modesty still text from time to time, but a 29-year-old guy should on principle not be forcing his company upon a 21-year-old young woman. However, George actively reaches out to him, effectively burying the hatchet, so he acquiesces. 

“How are you?” Modesty says warmly when he arrives, feeling awkward given how few times he’s entered other people’s homes. “I mean, besides the whole Tina thing—which I assume is going well?”

Newt nods. “I’m alright. How are you doing?”

“Well, rehab is a bitch but my paralysis is officially only temporary. I should be able to go back to school in the fall.”

Newt smiles, genuinely relieved and pleased for Modesty and her family. “Really? That's wonderful news!” 

Newt still thinks back to the car crash, which seems  _ ages _ ago now, and how Modesty looked at him—which he does  _ not  _ mean in a totally skeevy way. Rather, how she looked at Newt made him feel much more  _ human,  _ and humbled, than he is accustomed to. At the time, she didn’t realize it was him; to her, he was simply someone who was there.

One of Newt’s childhood friends got into a freak accident when they were younger. She recalled the story afterwards, how when she hit the other car she was so distraught she fell to her knees on the highway, screaming and crying. And when a woman came by—after dozens of cars pulled over to help—and thought to ask if she was alright, she remembered with somewhat dark amusement how desperately she’d clung to the woman and begged her not to leave.

That’s what Newt was to Modesty in that panicked moment. He cannot imagine the terror she was feeling, not to mention the pain, and to have been there as a bystander and not as a celebrity was the start of whatever strange path of enlightenment (if he’s being  _ very _ trite, which he evidently is) that Tina has unintentionally brought him down, exposing him again and again to the  _ real _ world instead of the sheltered existence he’s used to.

“Hi, Newt,” Modesty’s mother greets him. “Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wood,” he thanks her politely.

“Please, call me Yvonne.”

Newt offers an awkward nod in response (what is anyone really supposed to say to that sort of comment?). 

“So I hear you're on Broadway?” Yvonne asks, sitting down at the kitchen table with him and Modesty. 

Newt nods. “I will be. Rehearsals start in September.”

Yvonne smiles, appearing more relaxed than Newt had prepared himself for. He really wouldn’t have blamed Modesty’s parents if they still held grudges against him. “What's the play called again?”

This he can easily talk about. Newt eagerly launches into an impassioned description of the plot and backstory. He’s beyond excited to start, not to mention how much he loves Sam Gold, and it's nice discussing it with people other than co-actors or reporters. It’s something entirely different from what he’s done before.

Eventually, Yvonne has to get back to work; since Modesty’s accident, she’s been able to telecommute. This means she also has to keep house, something of which she frequently reminds her daughter, and gets up to clean the kitchen while Newt and Modesty continue talking.

“It's Tina's birthday,” Newt says after they’ve discussed Modesty’s upcoming school year and classes. “On the 19th.”

Modesty's face lights up. “Ooh, what are you gonna do?!” 

“I have absolutely no clue,” Newt replies honestly. “Tina dislikes extravagance. Though I did take her to an island, and a private beach, and she seemed to enjoy those.”

“Yeah, just don't rent out a baseball stadium and propose to her with a 15 carat ring in front of hundreds of people with a 50-piece orchestra and fireworks and you'll be good.”

“What?”

“I don't watch the Kardashians,” Modesty says quickly. Ah. A reality show reference, then. “Anyway. It's too soon for jewelry, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Yvonne pipes up sternly from the sink.

Modesty rolls her eyes good-naturedly at the interruption. “Well... what’d you need Dad for, on your super date with her?”

“I rented a ferris wheel because she used to go to county fairs with her parents,” Newt answers. He and Modesty fall silent for a moment, both thinking, and then he snaps his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he says, jumping to his feet. “Sorry. Got a bit excited.” He sits back down.

“Really?” Modesty responds dubiously when he tells her.

“I think it’s perfect,” Yvonne puts in. She finishes wiping off the counter and wrings out the dishcloth. “It’s a nice gesture without being extravagant.”

“Flowers, too,” Modesty adds. “You gotta get her flowers.”

Newt  _ did  _ get Tina flowers on their date back in April, and she seemed appreciative, so he accepts the suggestion and makes a mental note to ask Chastity or Hank what her favorite flowers are.

“Tina will love the present,” Modesty beams when he heads home later. Apparently the idea had grown on her.

“Do you think so?” Newt says. The idea has done the opposite for him, and he’s now worried it’s completely lame and not at all perfect or what she might be expecting.

Modesty nods emphatically. “Seriously. It’s sweet. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll love it so much she’ll swoon.”

Newt doesn’t know about the ‘swooning’ part, but he certainly hopes so.

* * *

They’re watching a movie one night when, predictably at this point, Tina falls asleep on Newt. He turns the volume down and settles back against the couch cushions, mulling over the past few weeks and considering the coming ones. He would normally be trying to connect with his future Broadway co-star, but Aubrey mildly terrifies him. He figures he’ll have to suck it up eventually, though. It won’t do to be terrified by someone he’s going to spend most of the next few months with. 

The third role of “Man” has been taken by James Fassbender, who’s traveling back from Scotland next week. Newt has heard good things about the actor—he’s relatively new to Broadway—and fervently hopes that he’ll prove to be more normal than Aubrey. It certainly won’t be the same three-way dynamic that Newt had developed with Emily and Theseus.

It’ll be a quiet life for now, then, or as quiet as one’s life can be when they’re dating a NYPD officer. Tina’s had a few near misses on duty (which he’s certain is always downplayed by Chastity and Hank) and come home scraped and bruised, but he’s starting to believe her that her job isn’t  _ quite _ as dangerous as he initially feared. A lot more of it involves paperwork than he thought.

Newt’s mind goes to his family next: He  _ did  _ promise Kate he would come by sometime. This seems the opportune time. He’s spoken to her briefly—she knows about  _ Wild,  _ and will no doubt come to New York, probably during previews—and feels a little bad that he’s neglected her in light of the movie and, to be quite honest, Tina. 

Kate dismissed his apologies, but wanted to know more about this mystery cop. Newt felt like it was only fair to explain; when he finished describing Tina and the way their relationship started, Kate was over the moon that her little Newtie had “finally found someone worthy”.

“I’ve always let you do what you wanted, of course, but I must say I’ve been horribly disappointed by some of your picks,” she had informed him over their last phone call. “Who says an A-list actor like my son can’t settle down nicely with a police officer from Manhattan?”

“The entire business?” Newt pointed out.

“Oh, pish posh,” Kate scoffed. “You do what makes  _ you _ happy. I’m delighted to meet her. I  _ will _ meet her, right?”

“Of course,” Newt had reassured her, and then she was called away for another rescue mission involving a hundred dogs dying of neglect and crammed into a tiny hut claiming to be a ‘dog shelter’.

“Sorry,” Tina yawns presently, interrupting Newt’s introspection. “I'm always using you as a pillow.”

“I don't mind,” Newt says, and presses a kiss to her temple. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. “You're a good boyfriend.”

Stupidly, Newt blurts out in surprise, “Boyfriend?” He’s taken aback, but instantly realizes how it came across and cringes. 

“Sorry,” Tina apologizes, sitting up abruptly and looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I wasn't thinking.”

“No, I'm... no,” Newt tries to explain. He just hadn't expected it.

“It's fine, really,” Tina insists. “Sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing. I... actually wanted to, er... talk about it.”

She frowns. “About what?”

Newt licks his lips nervously. “Trust me, I take no pleasure in broaching the topic, and I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable, but... well, I rather think that at this point in our... whatever it is, it’s best that we discuss... us.” All things considered, that didn’t go horribly.

Tina nods. “Okay, sure. I haven’t had ‘The Talk’ since I was in high school, but I’m game.” She leans over and flicks on the light.

That’s a  _ much _ better reaction than he could have hoped for. Clearing his throat, Newt says, “I suppose I’d like to know where you see this going. Or where you’d  _ like _ to see it going.”

“I... well, I like you,” Tina says.

“That’s a good start,” Newt replies. “I like you too.”

“I think you’re very pretty,” she continues, grinning, and Newt groans.

_ “Please _ don’t remind me of that disastrous conversation. I will never drunk text again.”

“That’s what they all say,” Tina says teasingly, then sobers. “But, uh... I don’t feel like this is going nowhere.”

“I believe that’s called a ‘double negative’.”

“Okay, okay, smartass.” Tina nudges him gently. “I like you. And I don’t want this to just be casual, indefinitely. If we’re talking  _ labels,  _ um, everyone seems to already call us boyfriend-girlfriend. We’re exclusive, I think?” She looks at him anxiously.

Newt nods vehemently. “I’ve never wanted to be anything but.”

“Good,” Tina says. She sounds relieved; how could she have ever thought differently? 

_ Rip the bandaid off.  _ Newt bites his lip, glances down at his hands, then says tentatively, “Should we talk about... erm...”

Tina’s face darkens just slightly and Newt’s stomach sinks. She smooths out her features, though, and takes a deep breath. “Do you want to go public? We can't do this forever.”

“I do,” Newt responds honestly. “If we’re in agreement we are both in it for the long haul—that this isn't just casual dating—which it would seem we are... putting off the inevitable will only hang over us and potentially worsen the blow if and when we are eventually exposed.” Much as he would like to think they could get away with waiting until a potential engagement or quiet breakup (to be fair, he knows celebrities who have pulled that off, but they weren't at the level of fame that he is), it's unrealistic.

“So what do we do?”

“There's the million dollar question,” Newt says ruefully. 

“Val said we could do it. If we strategize...” Tina pauses, looking at him and likely seeing her own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. “Yeah,” she says in response to an unspoken answer. “It’s a lot.”

“I am sorry,” Newt apologizes. “That this is the case.”

Tina reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s fine,” she says firmly. “We can’t do anything about your fame.”

“Unfortunately,” Newt sighs, tamping down the same resentment and disappointment as he always does when dwelling on this topic. “Well...”

“Tell me honestly,” Tina says pragmatically, “that you feel like this is solid enough that we could do it.”

Newt hesitates. Which is probably bad.

Thankfully, Tina doesn't appear hurt. “Look, even if we like each other and don't intend to break up, it's still new, right? I don't know. Maybe it's too early.” She furrows her brow. “But I don't want the whole thing to be a ticking time bomb.”

Newt grimaces. “Neither do I.”

There’s a comfortable pause while they both gather their thoughts. Newt is unspeakably grateful that they’re on the same page, even if that page is less than desirable. Then Tina says, “Maybe we can worry about this later.”

“Avoid our problems? What an excellent solution,” Newt concurs only semi-sarcastically. “I think we’ve got quite enough going on at the moment. We can schedule a meeting with Seraphina later, perhaps.”

Tina nods. “Okay. That works.”

If Newt does say so himself, this talk went rather well. “So the real takeaway is that I can now officially tell my mum that yes, I have a girlfriend, and it’s only taken me fifteen years.”

Tina shoves him playfully. “You’ve had girlfriends before. I did my research, remember?”

Newt shakes his head. “No, not particularly. I dated. It was never very official. The media just enjoys spinning tall tales, anyone knows  _ that— _ how very amateur of you, Tina,” he says, tsk-ing.

“Oh, go away,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. Then she settles back next to Newt on the couch, slipping under his arm. He notches his chin over the top of her head thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’m glad the real reason you’re dating me at all is to shut your mom up. I was kinda worried you actually liked me.”

“Mm,” Newt agrees. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

“How is your mom, anyway?”

“She seems to be alright, but I was thinking of seeing her soon.”

“You should! Fly out there before  _ Wild _ starts,” Tina suggests.

“She’ll come for the previews, and I’m hesitant to leave you.” It slips out and sounds far more cringeworthy than Newt intended. He hurriedly clarifies, “It’s only that once  _ Wild _ starts, our time together will be significantly limited.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Tina replies in thinly-veiled amusement. “I’m gonna have to research how the whole Broadway thing works now.”

It’s getting late and Tina is yawning every minute, so Newt decides to go home half an hour of lazy conversation and a  _ 30 Rock  _ episode later. “Hey,” he says before leaving.

“Yeah?” Tina asks.

“You’re a good girlfriend too.”

_ Girlfriend.  _ It isn’t a term Newt ever thought he’d be using, but he has absolutely zero complaints.

* * *

The following day, Newt is headed to Tina's for lunch when he gets a call from Poppy. 

“It's Kate,” she says in a very not good tone of voice. Newt’s heart sinks. 

“What happened?” he asks, clutching the phone. 

“She broke her spine, Newt, I'm so sorry.”

“She's going to live,” Newt establishes, heart rate slowing marginally.

“They don't know exactly how bad it is, they're still running tests. They said something about vertebroplasty—surgery, I think. She's been out of it and they've got her on pain meds, but she wants to see you.”

Relief gives way to fear again, followed by uncharacteristic anger. That this should happen to his kind, strong, altruistic mother... “When did this happen?”

“Early this morning, a couple hours ago your time. I'm so sorry, I—”

“Were you there?” Newt asks, gritting his teeth. 

“No.” There's a very long, tense pause in which he braces himself for worse news. “Dad was, though.”

_ Dad. _ Phil and Kate would rather pretty much  _ anything _ than ever see one another. “Sorry, what?” Newt pushes the phone closer against his ear as though he might have somehow misheard.

“It was coincidence, but he's the only one who saw it happen. She was at the center early, and a cat escaped so she was up on the roof, and Dad was driving by. He never goes that way, but the motorway was closed and he had an interview half an hour away from the center, and... yeah. Bit awkward. He went with her to the hospital. She flipped him the V in the ambulance, so I'd say she's gonna be okay.”

Thank god. But Newt really does have to see her; while Kate has loads of friends and admirers, her sister is distant and busy with work and her brother passed away last year (frankly, Newt hadn't exchanged more than two words with the guy, and he was ten years Kate’s senior). “I'll fly out there today,” he promises. Perks of being famous and having money, he supposes.

“Okay. I'll visit tonight. See you then.”

“Alright, take care. Goodbye.”

After hanging up, Newt shoots off a quick text to his team and calls for a plane immediately. They get him on a flight at 2:15, giving him two hours to get to LaGuardia. It’s only a 45 minute drive, but he doesn't know how long he’ll be gone and really doesn't want to bail on Tina like that. So he cuts it  _ seriously  _ close and stops by her bungalow first, calling her en route. 

“Newt, you need to go!” she protests in alarm when he says he's heading to Rockaway. 

“I’d like to say goodbye,” he insists.

“Newt...”

“I can be very stubborn sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” Tina replies with the trace of a smile in her voice. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“I will,” Newt promises, and speeds the entire way there.

Tina is already waiting on the front stoop when he pulls up. “Hey,” she says, jumping to her feet, and hands him a brown paper bag. “Packed you lunch. I know you'll have fancy catered meals and all, but I thought you might like this as a  _ very  _ romantic going-away present.” She pauses. “It's bad, huh?”

“I don't know yet,” Newt admits. “If she gets surgery, I'm afraid I'll have to stay until she's more recovered.”

“Don't apologize,” Tina says. “You come home whenever is convenient for you, okay? We can FaceTime.”

“Alright, fine,” Newt acquiesces, and glances at the time. He's going to have to book it to the airport. So he kisses Tina, lingering slightly, before she gives him a gentle push towards the car.

“Bye,” she says, leaning against the post of her front porch and smiling. He sees her smile a lot more, lately.

With one last wave, Newt gets in the car and drives away.

* * *

“Who was that?” Tina’s neighbor Ellie Applewood asks keenly right after Newt drives off. Tina jumps, having been caught up in missing him already and hoping the packed lunch wasn't totally condescending and cheesy.

Tina oh so helpfully replies, “Uh...” She’s known Ellie, who is one year younger than her, since she moved to Rockaway, of which Ellie is a native. The young woman works at Tastemade’s New York location most of the time, so Tina hadn’t been expecting her to be home.

Ellie steps onto Tina's porch and places her hands on her shoulders, looking the police officer sternly in the eye. “Tina. Was that Newt Scamander?”

After debating for a few seconds and reasoning that Ellie is well-accustomed to celebrities (and therefore less likely to freak out) and has always been a good friend, Tina decides to throw caution to the wind and admit, “Um, yeah.”

Ellie stifles a shriek. “OH MY GOD! Are you kidding me?!”

“You can't tell anyone, I'm serious,” Tina says urgently. “Promise you won't.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, my neighbor is dating Newt Scamander! Oh my  _ god.  _ How did you meet? What happened? Tell me everything.”

“Ellie.”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“Ellie!”

“What? It's not like every woman in the world wants to know.”

“Stop it,” Tina says, blushing. 

“And no, I won't tell anyone, I promise,” Ellie pledges more seriously. “You have my word.” Then her face lights up. “Come over for lunch! I have pink lemonade.”

“Well, who could resist that,” Tina mutters, but smiles nonetheless. Come to think of it, Ellie is the only girlfriend Tina has to talk about Newt with, different from Hank and Chastity. Besides, socializing will help take her mind off of Newt’s departure.

“Sweet,” Ellie says, beaming. She's always been upbeat and peppy, a ray of sunshine who would bring by homemade chicken soup when Tina was sick and checked in on her every so often. “Let's go!”

* * *

Newt had reminisced the other day to Tina about how he used to go to school and eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, green apple, and three Oreos alone in the corner of the band room. Always the same lunch—it started out a matter of convenience for Kate when he was a picky eater in primary school, and later became something comforting. She figured he would tire of it, but he never did. 

When he opens up the paper bag, he finds the exact same meal, with a note in Tina's tall, slanted handwriting:

_ Newt, _

_ Here's a little something for the road. It's not much, sorry. _

_ I hope your mom gets better. I'll be thinking of you. _

_ Tina _

She's signed her name with a heart before it.

_ Oh god,  _ Newt thinks as he sinks down in his seat and the plane departs the gate. He is  _ so  _ in for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, James is a combination of Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy.
> 
> Irrelevant, because she doesn't really come up otherwise, but FC for Ellie is Anna Kendrick. 
> 
> So they're finally official!


	13. I'll be there to save the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So... what exactly happened?” Newt asks Kate.
> 
> “Mister Pudding got loose.”
> 
> That really doesn't explain anything. “Er...”
> 
> “I had to chase him up the roof, silly old fellow, and the ladder decided it was a grand time to break, so down I went!”
> 
> How on earth she's making so light of this is beyond Newt, but that's Kate for you. “You're making it sound rather like ‘the itsy bitsy spider’,” he says. “What happened next?”
> 
> “Well, I was in terrible pain, let me tell you that, and no amount of pills in the house or otherwise would've helped. I figured I shouldn't move considering I might've broken my back and couldn't feel my feet, and my mobile was inside. Along comes your e’er chauvinistic father, pulls over, jumps out the car, and calls 999.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this is late and also dialogue heavy. Hopefully entertaining, though, for people who like backstories and wanted to know about Newt’s family. Next chapter Kate will have surgery and hopefully come out on the other side and we’ll have a bit of Tina’s point of view... and it's also Tina’s birthday, so that'll have to be something. Newt can't give her her gift but Chastity has something very special in mind.

_ I'm only one call away _

_ I'll be there to save the day _

_ Superman got nothing on me _

_ I'm only one call away _

**~*~**

Newt lands nine hours later. Kate resides in a rather cliché large country estate with more than enough room, but he opts for a hotel near the hospital. It’s past 5am in England when he arrives; Newt decides to try and catch a few winks before spending the day with his mum. He shoots off a text to Tina thanking her for everything and promising to FaceTime tomorrow, and falls fast asleep.

Newt’s alarm goes off at ten o’clock in the morning. After a quick room service breakfast, he gets dressed and heads to the hospital, trying to keep a low profile. Seraphina warned him that it was likely Kate might make the tabloids—she’s well-known in her own right, and Newt’s presence is sure to add to the excitement—so he keeps an eye out for paparazzi and dons sunglasses and a baseball cap. It isn’t the end of the world if he’s photographed (frankly, it’ll probably just incite a bunch of ‘omg Newt is perfect look how close he is with his mother aw’ posts and a few death wishes to even it out), but not being photographed is always preferable.

The hospital staff is lovely and let him in through a discreet side entrance. Kate has a room all to herself which is currently occupied by an obscene amount of balloons, flowers, and gifts. She is nothing if not popular, Newt notes with amusement. She’d always been that way, too: outgoing and enthusiastic to the point of absurdity and embarrassment as her adolescent son. Radically different from him in that regard. In fact, he often wondered how exactly he turned out so  _ him _ when he was raised by the fiery embodiment of ‘girl power’.

“Darling!” Kate exclaims when Newt enters.

“Mum,” he responds, suddenly getting very emotional. Well, that won’t do. He  _ is _ British, after all. He leans down and hugs her gingerly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m brilliant, really chuffed to be here,” Kate replies in cheerful sarcasm.

Poppy interrupts them then, bringing a coffee back from the cafeteria for Newt. Her relationship with Kate has been mostly distant, although when she got engaged recently they started spending a bit more time together given Kate’s insatiable desire to poke her nose into every possible occasion that involves planning and bossing people around. Poppy’s own mother, Elise Wesley, is a kind woman who has a healthy relationship with Phil and zero interest in Kate. 

“Hi,” Newt greets his stepsister, taking the coffee gratefully. He kisses her on the cheek. “How are you?”

“Tired,” Poppy admits, and stifles a yawn.

“You should get some sleep,” he urges, realizing with significant guilt that she’s been managing all of this herself. Not that he could have done anything more than he’s done, but still.

Poppy shakes her head. “No, I’d rather be here. Ollie’s been taking care of things at home and meeting with the vendors.” Ollie Durham is her soon-to-be husband; he and Newt have never actually met, but Newt plans to attend their wedding. While he and Poppy never had a close sibling-like relationship, he does care and is pleased to see her settling down with someone who seems to be a good fit.

“She’s been lovely,” Kate says, patting Poppy’s hand. “Couldn’t have done it without her.”

“What have you been doing?” Newt queries as he and Poppy take seats next to the bed.

Kate waves a hand dismissively; the pulse oximeter affixed to her finger nearly flies off. “Oh, I’ve only just chased your dreadful father out of the hospital.”

“Kate,” Poppy says disapprovingly. “You know Phil probably saved your life. It would've been way worse if you'd laid there for another hour, and there was a lot of blood.”

Kate rolls her eyes. “I would’ve been just fine, mark my words,” she insists. “What’s a broken spine? I’ve worked with wounded Bengal tigers in Bangladesh, after all. And I’d still rather be mauled by one of those big cats than be in the same room as that man.”

“Come on, we’ve talked about this,” Poppy sighs. She shoots Newt a defeated look. “Anyway. Phil does say hello.”

“Tell him to sod off,” Kate says succinctly. 

“Mum!” Newt protests. Granted, Phil wronged his family in many ways, and there was a reason Newt had originally chosen to cut ties. That doesn't mean Kate ought to be  _ quite  _ so hard on the bloke. Besides, Tina has told Newt stories of reformed criminals who came back to the station years later to thank (and/or apologize to) the officers who had been instrumental in their recovery. Recidivism rates are on the rise, but, Tina says adamantly, that doesn't mean there's no hope. There are still the few who pull through, and she's honored to be a part of that. Newt would like to believe that Phil is capable of this sort of transformation. 

“He’s planning to visit after work tonight,” Poppy continues.

“Tell the staff to barricade the doors,” Kate retorts. Newt is getting some serious Val-in-30-years vibes.

Poppy attempts to conceal a grin. “You’re ridiculous,” she informs Kate. “He’s coming, like it or not.”

“I can threaten legal action,” Kate reminds the room. “Don’t think I am not above taking advantage of my ample fortune—which, might I remind us all, I obtained entirely on my own whilst your idiot father faffed around, acting like a 12-year-old who’s just discovered the thrill of fundamentally poor life decisions—”

“I know you can,” Poppy interjects appeasingly. “But you won’t.” She gets to her feet. “Well, just wanted to pop by and say hello. Newt, would you like to meet us for dinner tonight?”

Newt nods. “I’d love to.” He had assumed she and Ollie would be too busy, but is touched that they would make the small gesture when Poppy has every reason to completely ignore his existence. Better yet, she hasn’t once treated him any differently, and as far as he knows has hardly mentioned their relationship to anyone, understanding the fuss it would cause if her friends and coworkers realized she’s related to Newt Scamander. 

“Great. We can come mediate whatever goes down when Dad visits, then go get drunk at a pub.”

Newt thinks back to the wrap party and actually cringes. “I’ll have to pass on the ‘drunk’ part, but dinner sounds lovely.”

“Okay,” Poppy says, extracting her keys and phone from her purse and walking to the door. “I’ll give you a ring later.”

“Terrific girl,” Kate comments the moment the door slams shut. “I always did miss having a daughter... though I daresay your sensitivity and penchant for dress-up made me feel quite as though I had a daughter at times.”

This sort of comment is why Newt never lets anyone whose opinion matters to him  _ near _ Kate. “Please stop,” he requests, aggressively considering telling Kate that Tina was a figment of his imagination all along so that the two of them never have to meet.

“So, tell me about your police officer,” Kate changes the subject keenly. “Is she tall?”

“Why does that concern you?”

Kate shrugs. “Just wondering. You've given me very little to work with, dear. I'm grasping at straws here.”

Newt stands his ground. “Shall we not?”

“Very well, but I'll get it out of you eventually,” Kate says sternly. 

“I have no doubt.” Newt pauses, staring into space and contemplating his life right now. It isn’t very productive. “So... what exactly happened?” he asks his mother, who has been watching him far too shrewdly for his liking.

“Mister Pudding got loose.”

That really doesn't explain anything. “Er...”

“I had to chase him up the roof, silly old fellow, and the ladder decided it was a grand time to break, so down I went!”

How on earth she's making so light of this is beyond Newt, but that's Kate for you. “You're making it sound rather like ‘the itsy bitsy spider’,” he says. “What happened next?”

“Well, I was in terrible pain, let me tell you that, and no amount of pills in the house or otherwise would've helped. I figured I shouldn't move considering I might've broken my back and couldn't feel my feet, and my mobile was inside. Along comes your e’er chauvinistic father, pulls over, jumps out the car, and calls 999.”

The corner of Newt’s mouth twitches. “How dare he?”

“They got me all tidied up on the backboard—mind you, I was screaming bloody murder, I think your father might've shed a tear—and I was in positively excruciating pain, but they got me injected with morphine and some other funny sounding drugs, popped me into the helicopter, flew me to hospital, and Bob’s your uncle!”

“That’s... what did they say? The paramedics?”

“I told one of them that he was quite cute, the others asked him how much morphine he’d given me, and then I informed everyone that I'm _exceedingly_  single.”

Of course she did. Of  _ course.  _ Newt buries his head in his hands.

Kate isn't finished. “I believe I also asked for a jar of bees, you know, seeing as Phil’s got that deadly allergy to them. And the audacity of that man to accompany me the whole way! They had to drive the ambulance a bit to meet the helicopter. Meanwhile, your dad’s talking to the medics like I can't bloody speak.”

“You were on a backboard,” Newt points out. 

“And a cervical collar, but that didn't mean my mouth didn't work,” Kate says crossly. “They did a rubbish job of it anyway, got my hair all a mess...”

“You fell off a building!”

“A ladder, sweetheart. I fell off a ladder.”

Newt doesn't know how to react, so he gives into amusement. “Did you at least get the cute paramedic’s number?” he asks with a straight face. 

“He was married to someone twenty years my junior. I said to him, I'm sure she's a lovely woman but if you ever get a divorce or she dies a tragic death you're to wait an appropriate amount of time and track me down, because I plan to be alive and kicking until I'm at least 100.”

“Good lord,” Newt groans.

At that point lunch arrives for both of them, after which Kate announces that she's feeling much better. The testing has confirmed that she suffered a spinal fracture and will likely have to undergo surgery. She's still receiving significant pain medications and objects in the strongest terms to not being allowed to move around. “Poppycock,” she pronounces. “I carry that rescue center on my shoulders and if I can't even sit up to get some damn  _ work  _ done, I'm going to lose it!” 

“Have you not already lost it?” a nurse asks. 

“The nerve,” Kate fumes once the nurse has been herded out of the room before she could fall victim to a scathing maternal lecture about respect and professionalism. “I don't know  _ why _ they insist on condescending to me at every turn.”

The doctors ask to speak with Newt a little while later. “We’re becoming a bit concerned about your mother,” the doctor says in an undertone. “She appears not to understand the seriousness of her injuries, and she's been acting belligerent. That can happen as people get older.”

Belligerent clearly means 'not as meek and submissive as a 52-year-old woman ought to be by the hospital's standards'. “She's been that way since she was young,” Newt explains. “It is simply how she is. One time she nearly lost a leg and threw a fit in the ambulance because she had to miss my musical.”

“Oh, you're  _ that  _ Newt Scamander!” a nurse says in dawning comprehension.

Newt frowns. “Are there others?”

She shakes her head sheepishly. “I saw the name on the form but I assumed it was another one. I love your films!”

“Anyway,” the head doctor interrupts before Newt can respond and the nurse can ask for a selfie. “We’re hoping to see her condition improve. We’ll schedule surgery for tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Newt agrees, when his phone rings. It's a FaceTime call from Tina, so he waves the doctors adieu and answers as he re-enters the room.

“Oh darling, she's beautiful!” Kate says loudly, craning her neck. “Hello, Tina. I'm Kate Scamander. Well, when I say Scamander...” She's attempted to go back to her maiden name, branding herself as Kate Prendergrast, but unfortunately everyone still knows her as a Scamander. “You can call me Kate,” she concludes. 

“Alright,” Tina replies somewhat uncomfortably.

“Well, I'll leave the two of you to it,” Kate says in a rare act of mercy, motioning for her son to step out of the room. “Do say goodbye before hanging up.”

“Will do, Mum,” Newt says, and firmly shuts the door.

* * *

Tina has to hang up abruptly, leaving a very disappointed Kate, who had been hoping to interrogate her son’s new missus. Unfortunately for Tina (and Newt), there's always a next time. 

Newt goes back to the hotel and takes a nap around 4, later returning to the hospital. Poppy calls him right as he’s pulling into the parking lot with the warning that Phil is on his way and subsequent reassurance that she and Ollie will be there soon as backup. Newt hasn’t seen his parents actually interact in years—and had been rather hoping to keep it that way. Poppy seems to be preparing herself for World War III.

When Newt enters Kate’s room, she’s somehow coerced the nurses into helping her get dressed up with makeup and jewelry and a tastefully low-cut blouse. “I’m trying to win the divorce, see,” she explains to Newt when he raises an eyebrow.

“There’s no such thing as winning a divorce,” Newt says patiently.

“Tell that to your father,” Kate says darkly. “He’s the one who’s got a job and a beautiful wife now.”

“You’ve got a wonderful job that's made you lots of money, you said so yourself,” Newt protests.

“I know, darling, I know,” his mother says placatingly, “but he does like to rub it in my face.”

Newt settles down by the door and says a prayer.

A few minutes later, Phil enters. “Hi, son,” he says gruffly, clapping Newt on the back. Clean-shaven and in a button-down and chinos, life seems to have anti-aged him. Newt is still supremely uncomfortable, given that more than half of his past associations with Phil had taken place during his turbulent adolescence, primarily while Phil was inches from rock bottom.  To his credit, Phil wasn't abusive in the slightest and in fact cared a great deal about his son. He simply wasn't in a fit state to show or act upon it, and while Kate may forgive his careless treatment of her, she will never forgive him for choosing drugs over his own child. 

“Hello, Dad,” Newt says cautiously.  _ Dad.  _ H e feels weird saying Dad, but he also feels weird saying Phil.

“Phil or Philip is fine,” Phil says.

“Great!” Kate chirps up from the hospital bed. “Tell Phil or Philip that he can get the hell out of my room.”

“Oh, Katie. Always a pleasure,” Phil says, crossing over to his ex-wife. Newt braces himself. Phil seems to be only marginally sarcastic; from what Newt can gauge with his limited people-reading abilities, the man appears genuinely interested in burying the hatchet. Kate appears genuinely interested in burying the hatchet too—in her ex-husband’s back, that is. 

“Don't even start,” Kate says, rolling her eyes. 

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m still in terrible pain, if that’s what you’d like to hear.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“You could’ve fooled me—”

“Hello, Kate!” Poppy says pointedly, hastily throwing open the door. She’s followed by a man Newt assumes is Ollie. “Hey, Dad.”

Phil gives his step-daughter a peck on the cheek and shakes Ollie’s hand. Then he takes a seat a safe distance away from Kate. “I hear you're in for surgery tomorrow.”

“No thanks to you.”

“They've been very gracious. The staff. I thought you might want to give me a bit more credit.”

Kate scoffs. “Oh, the bravery... the perseverance. Spare me.”

“Come on, Katie,” Phil says gently.

“Not that it isn’t impressive for a 50-year-old man to be able to come to a fallen woman’s rescue—and you shouldn’t have moved me at all in the first place, you know.”

“This again?” Phil asks, throwing his hands in the air. “I moved you less than a _foot_ so the medics could get to you! Katherine, I swear to god—”

“Well, that's enough of that,” Poppy says quickly, standing between Kate and Phil. 

Phil is beginning to lose patience, his gaze turning as stormy as his ex-wife’s. “I'm trying to be nice, but  _ she's  _ being—”

“Oh, look, I'd like to introduce you to my friend, anybody else,” Poppy interjects. “Dad, why don't you and Ollie go for a nice jaunt, I'm sure Kate is tired...”

“I don't get tired, darling,” Kate says. “Unlike your  _ heroic  _ father, he slept through that time Newt dived off a rock and got a concussion, but it's hardly surprising—as  _ if  _ he ever takes responsibility or initiative!”

“Could we get some more of the drugs over here?” Phil shoots back. “How many mils does it take to shut her up?”

“Let's go,” Ollie says firmly, and drags Phil out of the room. “Kate, I hope you feel better.”

“Well, that went rather well, I'd say,” Kate says when Ollie and Phil leave, primly folding her hands over her stomach.

Poppy sighs; Newt doesn't even know what to do or say at this point. He's mostly on the verge of laughter at how very ridiculous his life is at this moment.

“You'd better get some rest and eat some proper food,” his mother advises him. “You're looking rather peaked, though it could just be your father’s ghastly pallid complexion.”

“You both have the same complexion,” Newt says exasperatedly. Kate really does take every opportunity to insult Phil. 

“Ready for dinner?” Poppy comes to his rescue. 

“Please,” Newt agrees in relief. “I'll be back to say goodnight,” he promises his mother, hugging her as best he can given her rigid position and avoiding getting makeup plastered all over himself. “Try not to cause any rackets.”

“I wouldn't dare dream of it,” Kate insists. “Goodbye, darling.”

* * *

Dinner is nice, although there's been a tip-off about Newt’s current location and Kate’s hospitalization. As such, paparazzi appear at the restaurant to snap photos of him with Poppy and Ollie.  “I'm so sorry,” Newt apologizes multiple times. Here Poppy had been as inconspicuous as possible, and his fame had to go and ruin it. 

“It's fine,” she says. “People were going to find out at the wedding anyway.” Newt feels bad regardless.

To top it off, there is now apparently a rumor going around that Kate has cancer. Seraphina puts out a public statement that Kate suffered a spinal injury, is expected to make a full recovery, and requests that she and Newt be left alone during this time. The paps do ease off after the restaurant manager intervenes; perhaps British paparazzi have become nicer than American. Then again, Brits in general seem to be nicer than American, especially the law enforcement. Tina herself has commented on that. She also implied that the accent has something to do with the appeal, to which Newt inquired whether she thought his accent attractive, and she turned red and muttered something unintelligible. 

Knowing that Ollie and Poppy aren't about to go sell his secrets to the media, nor embarrass him spectacularly, Newt does talk about Tina. It's actually quite nice, as it had been during his visit with Modesty, to discuss things with people who have no ties to the industry or celebrities other than himself. Both Ollie and Poppy listen intently and are greatly sympathetic when he explains the complexity of his relationship with Tina given his fame.

“She sounds really great,” Poppy says when Newt has concluded a much lengthier description of Tina than he intended. “It sucks you have to be private about it. You really think it would be a media circus if you went public?”

Newt gestures to the windows, which had had to be covered so as to ward off the paparazzi and stragglers of the general public eager to catch a glimpse. “Usually it's female artists who attract this sort of attention,” Newt explains, citing stars like Taylor Swift and Bella Thorne, whose publicists Seraphina is well-acquainted with. “For whatever reason, I face much of the same treatment. I have the respectful fans, of course, but I still have others speculating wildly, dogging my footsteps, and I can only hope the novelty of my presence in New York will wear off eventually.”

“I don't envy you,” Ollie concurs, running a hand through his hair. Newt can't help but be a tad jealous of the relationship that Poppy evidently has with her fiancé. The two of them are clearly comfortable with one another, exchanging casual glances and touches, and the way they look when their other half is talking just screams love.  Growing up, Newt also had few healthy relationships modeled for him; it just so happened that his smattering of friends through the years seemed to come from single parents or otherwise dysfunctional families. Celebrity relationships are often rife with drama, and Newt doesn't associate much with celebrity couples aside from a select few, so he has an appreciation for his somewhat delayed exposure to the real world of dating and marriage. 

“If there's anything we can do, let us know,” Poppy adds. “If you need a place to stay, anything.”

“Thank you,” Newt says gratefully. For all his angst, he's certainly lucky to have such a circle of supporters in his midst. His best friend when he was a teenager always said that every person deserves to have that someone they could call up at 2am needing a ride. Considering the time he helped Tina with her car, Newt obviously now knows what it's like to be that person, but he's also starting to believe he just may have those people in his life as well. 

Newt goes to the hospital after dinner to discover with dismay that Kate has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. She's still stable, but the pain has increased significantly, seemingly out of nowhere. Doctors bump her surgery up to early morning, and in the meantime continue to monitor her. Their biggest fear at this point is that she could start demonstrating symptoms of a delayed traumatic brain injury not initially caught by emergency personnel (or worse yet, that her perceived 'belligerence' could have been caused by one). The medics performed the typical precautionary measures when they arrived, but were most concerned with her spinal fracture, and since she was initially lucid they assumed her back took the brunt of the fall. That said, there was no way of knowing whether she underwent extreme acceleration/deceleration forces at the time, and brain cells can die slowly when a TBI goes undetected.

Kate is distressingly out of it when Newt arrives, seeing as the doctors had been forced to administer stronger doses of painkillers. A nurse is at her bedside while she sleeps to check for any changes and wake her up every hour or so. Bodies are ultimately so unpredictable, it's anybody's guess what's really going on, and things aren't always out of the woods as they may seem.

“She'll be fine,” the nurse reassures Newt. 

“Will she?” he asks anxiously, watching with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Kate stirs in the bed. 

“I wouldn't worry. She seems tough, and we’re just being cautious.”

“Yeah, I appreciate it,” Newt says. He texts Tina about the latest development and calls Poppy, who is busy and exhausted but promises to visit early tomorrow morning. Around midnight, he falls asleep awaiting his girlfriend’s response and hoping against hope that the nurse is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to make Kate's recovery easy, right up til the end, when I just couldn't help throwing in a bit more drama. I blame it on all the British/Australian medical shows I watch.


	14. Let me be there in your morning, let me be there in your night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina calls Newt later, and he discovers himself getting embarrassingly emotional whilst talking to her. Poppy asks if he’s okay when he hangs up. “Yes,” he says, swallowing down the lump in his throat.
> 
> “It’s cute,” Poppy comments lightly.
> 
> “What is?”
> 
> “You got all emotional when you started talking to your girlfriend. You let your guard down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay - this is a bit of a filler chapter, I'm afraid, and I've been very busy with other life things. Upcoming chapters will hopefully be more plotty and interesting. This is dialogue- and interaction-heavy.

_ Wherever you go, where ever you may wander in your life  
_ _ Surely you know I always want to be there  
_ _ Let me be there in your morning, let me be there in your night  
_ __ Let me change whatever's wrong and make it right

**~*~**

It's a long night. The doctors aren't sure what causes it, but at 3 in the morning Kate’s blood pressure drops suddenly. They manage to coax it back up, Newt panickedly gripping the arms of his chair and really wishing he wasn't dealing with this alone right now. A few hours later, the doctors' concerns about a delayed TBI are heightened. It's possible that although immediately after the accident, there were few demands being placed on Kate's brain, the excitement of her altercation with Phil and being allowed to get some work done from her bed have exacerbated what's hopefully only a mild concussion. This makes surgery complicated, because they want to be monitoring Kate closely and not risk worsening a TBI, but they also have no time to lose in trying to minimize damage to her spine.

Kate finally pulls through around dawn. Her vitals return to the safe zone, and while she isn’t totally out of the woods, she’s stable enough for the medical staff to be comfortable performing surgery. Poppy comes by in the morning, apologizing not for being there earlier; she and Newt sit somberly by Kate’s bedside making small talk about Ollie and the weather. Tina calls Newt later, and he discovers himself getting embarrassingly emotional whilst talking to her. It's mingled guilt and concern that's making him most miserable, though the general situation isn't exactly cheering him up either. 

“She gets it, Newt,” Tina insists. “You're busy.”

“I still could've made time for her. I could've.”

“Well then  _ I  _ should feel guilty, since I'm the one you saw when you could've been visiting her.”

It’s a fair point, so Newt lets it go. Poppy asks if he’s okay when he hangs up. “Yes,” he says, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“It’s cute,” Poppy comments lightly.

“What is?”

“You got all emotional when you started talking to your girlfriend. You let your guard down.”

“I’m not  _ emotional,”  _ Newt asserts. “Just... stressed.”

Poppy shrugs. “Either way, it’s a good sign when you can hold it together in front of everyone but the person you care about.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” says Newt. He’s spending most of his time now with Poppy, and wonders what it might have been like growing up with a sibling. She’s remarkably low-key—down-to-earth, kind, and modest. It’s just nice having some semblance of a family other than Phil during this stressful time. If Poppy and Elise had chosen to alienate themselves, and rightfully so, both Newt and Kate would be dealing with this totally alone. Expressing this to Poppy would be a bit too sappy, even for Newt, so he doesn't say anything to that effect.

Finally the surgeons are ready. It seems that half the hospital staff accompany Kate to the operating room, and all anyone can do from there is wait.

“I really love her, you know,” Poppy says. She and Newt have decided to go down to the hospital cafeteria and get sandwiches. “She’s more than a bit much, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that she’s the most selfless and resourceful woman I’ve ever met.”

Newt nods. “I’m glad the two of you get along.”

“She could’ve been resentful of me,” Poppy explains. “I mean, it would make total sense. I don’t think she even really took it out on Mum. When I invited her to me and Ollie’s wedding and she found out Mum wasn’t helping me with planning, she literally flew five hours to the house and started making calls and creating Pinterest boards.” Poppy pauses, then grins. “I don’t want to know what she’ll be like when you get married.”

“She was largely the reason I didn’t attend dances during school,” Newt concurs. “I’m certain she would have hired a professional videographer if she caught me at a single formal. Then again, once I was famous, it was free of charge.”

“Yeah, what’s it like, anyway?” Poppy inquires. “Photoshoots and things like that. We talked about the paps, I know, but not the part where you’re on magazine covers in the supermarket.”

“Photoshoots took awhile to get used to,” Newt admits. “I always shied away from cameras, but that had to change as soon as I started film acting. You do feel a bit silly at first, posing a million different ways with assistants and makeup artists worrying about every strand of hair being in place. But if there’s a good team there, it can actually be quite fun.” 

Case in point: Val attended a photoshoot with him in LA a few months ago, and had had the entire studio in hysterics. Newt has worked with some makeup artists and photographers repeatedly, and that definitely helps him relax in an otherwise uncomfortable situation.

It’s good to be reminded of the positive sides of fame. Much as Newt resents his celebrity given his current situation with Tina and the relentless paparazzi, he has to admit that it’s afforded him opportunities he’s incredibly lucky to have. He isn’t much for staying at after-parties or letting loose in Las Vegas, of course, but he gets to be around interesting people and has actual things to do with his life. A purpose. Kate told him time and time again that the last thing she wanted was for him to be 30 and aimless like his father. Thankfully, this doesn’t seem to be the case.

Funny, though, that all the networking and social side of Hollywood haven’t touched Newt. Instead, he’s found himself interacting with ‘normal’ people and forging relationships with them rather than stars. This somewhat chaotic period of time in his life isn’t just about meeting Tina and having a girlfriend; Tina has introduced Newt to a world he finally suspects he belongs in. He really ought to thank her more often, no matter how much she rolls her eyes at it.

Hours later and Kate comes out the other side. Recovery will be slow, and rehab may be tough, but doctors predict she’ll be fine to walk. She also appears to have suffered a concussion mild enough not to warrant any aggressive medical intervention. Most of the symptoms were likely borne of exhaustion and overexertion. That or she magically healed her brain overnight, which wouldn’t be surprising to anyone. It occurs to Newt to put her in contact with Modesty, seeing as they both sustained spinal injuries and Modesty is the picture of a smooth recovery.

It’s late by the time Newt returns to the hotel. Phil has kept his distance, thankfully, but Newt pretends not to see a text from him asking if he’d like to have dinner tomorrow. The prospect of sitting alone, across from the man who was really the only reason Newt’s childhood was anything but idyllic, isn’t exactly appealing. Poppy, however, sees Newt avoiding it and kindly offers to join.

“He’s a nice guy, really, even though I’m probably biased,” she swears. “I just wouldn’t mention Tina if I were you. He gives terrible relationship advice.”

If things go to plan, Tina will never, ever meet Phil (meeting Kate is dubious enough), so Newt is more than happy to take Poppy’s advice.

* * *

Tina wakes up late on August 19, having come home in the early hours of the morning, and automatically checks her phone for updates from her boyfriend. Kate is in surgery now; poor Newt must be stressed out of his mind. Talking to him on the phone yesterday was proof enough. The two of them have exchanged a handful of texts, but she knows he’s been spending time with his stepsister and doesn’t want to intrude upon a family situation when she and Kate haven’t even properly met.

In a shocking twist, the doorbell rings just as Tina is getting ready for work. She opens the door to find a large bouquet of wildflowers. What’s even more surprising is the note: it isn’t from Newt, as she would have assumed, nor from Hank or Chastity.

_ Happy Birthday, Tina! Thanks for everything you’ve done for Newt. Have a great day :) _

_ -V.G. and Q.K. _

V.G. and Q.K. Tina wracks her brain. Could it be...? But no, Newt’s agent and manager have no reason to be interacting with her. Do they? She flips over the card. Written on the back is an additional note.

_ Sorry we haven’t won over Seraphina yet. She’ll get there. _

_ -Val _

Tina doesn’t quite know what to say or do. When Val and Queenie tipped over into ‘approval’ territory is beyond her. She does know that Newt has been in contact with them and they would’ve had time to witness any alleged changes in him in light of their relationship, but that she could be actively having a positive effect on someone else, particularly Newt Scamander, is difficult to believe. Modesty gives her a call before she leaves for work, and Tina glances briefly at her Facebook wall, offering a few half-hearted thank yous in response to birthday wishes from people she hasn’t spoken with in months.  When she gets to the station, Chastity, beaming, beckons her over.

“What?” Tina asks suspiciously.

“Happy birthday,” Chastity starts.

“Please don’t tell me you got something extravagant,” Tina requests.

“Nope. Hang on, where’s Hank? Henry!”

Hank comes round the corner, also beaming. “Morning, Tina. Happy birthday,” he contributes.

“What’s going on?” Tina demands. She isn’t particularly fond of her partner and sergeant being in cahoots. Or anyone being in cahoots. She's a law enforcement officer, after all.

“I have something to tell you,” Chastity begins.

Tina crosses her arms. “Okay, so tell me.”

“You’re gonna have to guess,  _ Detective  _ Goldstein.”

It takes a second for it to sink in. Chastity is watching Tina expectantly, and Hank is grinning. Detective? Does that mean...?

“You got promoted!” Chastity announces, and envelops Tina in a hug.

Promoted?

“It’s long overdue, anyway,” Chastity continues, Hank nodding along. “I wish Newt had been here... how’s his mom, anyway?”

“Getting surgery,” Tina replies. “Wait... promoted? So I’m a detective now?”

Chastity nods vehemently. “Yep, that  _ is _ how that all works!”

“That’s... wow. Thank you,” is all Tina can come up with.

“Told you she’d underreact,” Hank comments. He takes a sip of his coffee and claps Tina on the shoulder. “Well, don’t feel too special. We’ve got some drug busts today, so you better bring your A-game, birthday girl.”

“I’m 29,” Tina says indignantly as she follows her partner to the car.

“Yeah, well, I’m still almost a decade older than you, and I had Leah when I was younger than you are.”

Working closely with two parents can be really annoying sometimes. 

As they drive to their first call, Hank asks cautiously, “Would you ever consider tutoring?”

Tina glances sharply over at him. “What? Why?”

Hank shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat. “We, uh... we think Leah might be ‘gifted’. Well, her teachers have been saying that since she started, but me and Marisol wanted her to be a normal kid, not in some fancy program that would make her different from the others. But she’s starting to get bored and act out and we’re getting stressed about her starting 5th grade.”

“I... I don’t know how to teach,” Tina says, flummoxed.

“You’re a genius.”

Tina flushes. “I’m not.”

Hank raises an eyebrow. “Close to it. Police work is beneath you, Tina. You may love it, but you could be teaching at a top-tier university with brains like yours. We’d pay you.”

“No,” Tina says in alarm, “please don’t.” She pauses. “What would you need help with?”

“We got some books for her. 10th grade level math, and she’s already working her way through them faster than we can keep up. I assume you can do precalc?”

“If I looked at it again, yeah. But... I mean, you aren’t going to put her in any special classes or a different school?”

Hank shakes his head. “She’s gotta be a kid,” he implores. “I’ve seen what those ‘gifted’ kids are like. I don’t want to make her feel different.”

“But you could hire a professional tutor,” Tina argues.

“Neither of us want that. Look, just help her with some of the problems, and we’ll see if her behavior improves when she gets back to school.”

“Is it just math?”

“She’s a ridiculously advanced reader too, but that’s a lot easier to manage. She read  _ Gone With The Wind _ while the rest of the kids were on that book about the kid named Fudge.”

Tina’s fondness for Hank and his family effectively usurps her own self-doubt and hesitance to do something this far out of her comfort zone, so she acquiesces. It’s true that she could have pursued her education further (she doesn’t know about teaching at a top-tier university, but she had a vague interest in teaching before her pragmatic side won over) and she does miss school. It’s just that her life has no room, and she doesn’t have the resources, for doing more than what she’s doing right now. If she's being really truthful, given the opportunity to go back and get a masters or PhD... she probably would.

When their day shift ends, Tina is invited over to Hank’s for dinner. She hesitates; part of her was planning to go home, watch Netflix, eat ice cream, and see if Newt can FaceTime, but she feels like that’s rather lame. 

“Leah’s made cupcakes,” Hank adds. He turns to Chastity. “Your girls are invited too. I’d much rather dilute the sugar consumption, Leah on five cupcakes isn’t a force anyone should have to reckon with."

Naomi is at her boyfriend’s, but Olivia and Chastity join the newly-promoted detective to the Emersons’ abode in Brooklyn. Tina has only been here a handful of times. Before anyone can say anything, a blur of blond hair hurtles towards Hank.

“DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY!” Leah yells.

“Hi, chickadee,” Hank says, dropping his bag to allow his daughter to climb all over him. “I brought your favorite person.”

Leah launches herself off of Hank’s shoulders and jumps up and down in front of Tina. “TINA!” she cries. “TINA TINA TINA!” For some reason, despite Tina’s general lack of kid-friendliness, Leah seems to admire her tremendously.

“Hey,” Tina says, hugging the 10-year-old.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Leah stands akimbo, gazing up at Tina and beaming. She’s covered in dirt and looks like she has a skinned knee. Definitely Hank's kid.

“Whoa there, tiger toes,” Marisol Emerson says, entering the foyer and kissing Hank hello. She turns to Chastity, Olivia, and Tina. “Welcome to the madness. I was just finishing up dinner.” Marisol has the same smile as Leah, though she’s quite a bit milder in disposition.

“And I was just eating the cupcake batter!” Leah announces, skipping into the kitchen.

“I told you, you’re gonna get salmonella and die,” Hank says grumpily. “But your  _ mother  _ apparently doesn’t care.”

“Oh, shush,” Marisol scoffs from the stove. “I seem to recall you saying something about picking our battles. Can I get you a drink?” she asks her visitors.

“Water, please,” Tina says.

“I GOT IT!” Leah yells, skidding to a stop in front of the fridge and grabbing a glass haphazardly. She manages not to spill too much and delivers it to Tina.

“I see Leah’s calmed down a lot,” Chastity comments to Hank.

“Help,” he replies wearily, running a hand through his hair.

Dinner is full of reminders to Leah not to talk with her mouth full, police station gossip (Chastity pleads the fifth despite sharing a lot of juicy tidbits), before Tina is questioned about Newt. Leah laughs for about ten minutes upon hearing his name.

“We learned about newts in school,” she says, snorting. “They’re slimy and gross.”

“Be polite,” Hank says sternly. “Newt can’t help having an unfortunate name.”

“Hey, people are named all sorts of things nowadays,” Tina defends her boyfriend valiantly.

“Who’s the newt salamander person again?” Leah inquires.

“He’s a famous actor,” Marisol says patiently.

Leah wrinkles up her nose. “Oh, he’s not a police officer?”

“She doesn’t care about him if he isn’t a cop,” Hank informs Tina.

Newt calls while they’re in the middle of a heated (on Chastity’s behalf; Olivia and Leah have gone to play on the Wii) game of Monopoly.

“Pick up!” Chastity says enthusiastically. “Liv, come say hi to Newt!”

“Oh god,” Tina groans, and answers. Newt looks tired and rumpled and cute and Tina has a transitory fangirl moment herself. “Hey, I’m at Hank’s,” she says. “How’s your mom?”

“Out of surgery,” Newt answers.

“Hi, Newt!” Chastity interjects. “Are you gonna say happy birthday to Tina?”

“I was going to, before you interrupted,” Newt says patiently. “Happy birthday, Tina.”

Tina is about to reply when Leah comes bounding into the room followed by Olivia, who’s primping her hair anxiously. “That the newt guy?” Leah asks, leaning over Tina’s shoulder and pointing.

“This is my monster,” Hank introduces her to Newt, then firmly pulls his daughter away from the camera by the back of her collar.

“Hello, Leah,” Newt says with a wave.

“Why does he talk funny?” Leah asks, wrinkling up her nose.

“He’s British, sweetie,” Marisol says tolerantly.

Leah shrugs and walks off. “She’s clearly really impressed by you,” Chastity says. “Liv?”

“This is Olivia, Chastity’s daughter,” Tina tells Newt.

“Hi, Olivia,” Newt says as Olivia comes into view.

She turns scarlet. “Oh my god, hi!” she replies breathlessly. “I love you.”

“Oh,” Newt says. Tina looks on in amusement. No matter how many times he’s received them, Newt has never gotten used to love professions. “Er... thank you.”

“Can I give you a hug?” the starstruck teenager asks.

“Okay, we’re done here,” Chastity says, grabbing her daughter by the shoulders and shoving her back in the direction of the family room. “Go finish your game.”

“Bye,” Newt says in slight confusion. Leah returns, this time to try and steal the rest of Hank’s cupcake. The police officer grabs her around the waist; she sprawls all over his lap and glowers as he finishes the treat himself.

“So, the surgery went well?” Tina asks, trying to ignore everyone else.

“Tell him what happened!” Chastity interjects.

“I’m  _ trying _ to talk to him about his mom,” Tina says annoyedly. 

“Tina got promoted,” Hank announces. “She’s a detective now!”

Newt’s face lights up. “Really?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tina mutters. It is, and she's thrilled, but she would really rather not be having this conversation with her boyfriend in front of a bunch of other people.

“It is!” Newt insists with a broad smile. “I’m so proud of you. Really. I’m so sorry I can’t be there.”

Tina suddenly misses him, a lot. “It’s fine,” she says, attempting to stay upbeat. “I should probably go. Are you going to bed?”

“I’m knackered,” Newt admits. “When are you working tomorrow?”

“I have the day off,” Tina answers somewhat begrudgingly. Now that Newt isn’t around, days off seem rather pointless. Ellie did mention wanting to have a girl’s day out, whatever that entails. “We can talk then.”

“No, Newt can stay and cheer you on, because you’re about to lose Monopoly so hard,” Chastity says.

“No, Newt needs sleep,” Tina counters.

“‘Who needs sleep?’ Tina Goldstein, 2k17,” Chastity says. “The number of times you’ve said that to me!”

“I don’t need  _ that _ much sleep,” Tina claims.

The sergeant is entirely unconvinced. “Oh, so now that you’ve got a boyfriend, you get to police him about his sleep schedule, but not change yours? You should look up ‘hypocrite’ in the dictionary...”

“Goodnight, Newt,” Tina says firmly. Leah, having long since lost interest, makes another exit.

“Happy birthday again,” Newt repeats.

Tina hangs up; there’s a momentary awkward pause in which she wishes Newt was here or she was there. Even though they were starting to get on each other’s nerves slightly, she hadn’t realized how much of a fixture he’d become in her life. Selfishly (or selflessly, depending on perspective) she hopes Kate makes a speedy recovery because time is ticking down to the start of  _ Wild  _ rehearsals. Ellie’s ex did a few Broadway runs and she warned Tina of how hectic and time-consuming the weeks leading up to shows are.

“Sorry,” Tina apologizes hastily; she’s fallen silent and everyone is staring at her. “I just miss him.”

“I get that,” Marisol says as the only other woman in the room currently in a relationship. “I don’t miss  _ him _ anymore, though. It gets old.” She grins at Hank, then leans over and ruffles up his hair fondly when he looks disgruntled. “Kidding.”

“I don’t want to be... that,” Tina says vaguely, waving her hand.

“What, obsessed with him?” Chastity clarifies. “I mean, the majority of the world’s female population is, so what’s the difference?”

“Not just that. Just. You know.” It really isn’t the done thing to be sitting round a birthday/celebration dinner lamenting over her briefly long distance relationship with one of the world's most famous actors. Tina shakes her head. “Never mind.”

There’s an incredibly awkward pause. Then Leah re-enters with gusto, flings her arms around her father’s neck from behind and notches her chin over his shoulder, and asks loudly, “What does ‘knackered’ mean?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, Tina was promoted! And we got to meet the Emersons, in case you were into that. Tutoring Leah will be a good thing for Tina, because she really is super smart and it'll give her something to do, particularly since she gets antsy when she isn't working. Also, glad to see that Newt’s team is getting more supportive of the relationship.
> 
> Next chapter Newt’s going to get to go home and see Tina for a bit before rehearsals start.

**Author's Note:**

> Bookmark, comment, leave kudos, and so on if you enjoyed this so far! Requests can be sent to naughtyniffler@gmail.com.
> 
> Chapter count is estimated and subject to change.


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